After the break
by fizzix71
Summary: It's been over four years since Michael's death and Lincoln and Sarah are still struggling to leave the past behind them. An old face returns with some devastating news, and they find themselves drawn into the web of the Company once more.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

It had been a long time since she'd been in Chicago. She'd forgotten how damned cold the city was. Even in the summer, the wind blew in off the lake, chilling you through to your bones. She pulled her summer jacket tightly around her. She would have to go and buy a better coat. Later. She drained the last of the coffee from the Styrofoam cup and tossed it into the trash can on the sidewalk, not taking her eyes off the entrance to the apartment block across the street. She'd been here nearly an hour now, and she was starting to feel conspicuous. Her wig was making her head itch, and sweat was collecting around the rims of the huge sunglasses on her eyes, despite the cold.

There was movement from behind the glass door of the apartment block. Finally. She set off across the street, heading straight for the door, fumbling in her bag as she went.

A young woman opened the door from the inside and Gretchen saw instantly she was struggling with a pushchair, trying to manoeuvre it whilst holding the door open. Gretchen grabbed the door and held it for the young woman.

'Oh, here, let me help' she said, smiling at the woman.

'Thanks' said the woman, smiling gratefully as she pushed the stroller and it's screaming occupant out onto the tarmac. She turned hesitantly.

'Er- do you live in the building?'

Her eyes flicked to the 'Please do not hold the door' sign in bold letters on the door frame.

'Oh, yes, just looking for my keys' Gretchen smiled disarmingly and walked through the doorway, leaving the woman on the doorstep. She walked straight over the mailboxes in the far corner and bent to look at the names. She found him within seconds. Fourth floor, apartment 15. She turned to see the young mom still at the doorway, making a fuss of the baby and sneaking a glance at her. Gretchen waved brightly and strode over to the elevator.

She found apartment 15 and pressed her ear up to the door. She was pretty sure there was no one home – she had watched the family leave earlier – but she wanted to make sure. It was quiet inside. Reaching into her bag she removed a small leather wallet, which she unzipped to reveal a selection of tools. Choosing one, she picked the apartment lock within seconds and let herself in.

Jeez, what a tip. There were clothes scattered around, shoes and baby toys all over the floor, the remnants of breakfast still sitting out on the breakfast bar.

Gretchen gingerly moved a plate, congealed with egg and grease to one side and sat down at the breakfast bar to wait.

She didn't need to wait long. About half an hour later, there was the sound of the key in the lock and the door opened. Sucre, laden down with shopping bags, struggled through the door. He didn't even notice her at first, and set the bags down on the floor. It was only when he straightened up he noticed her.

Startled, he reached over to the drawer in the cabinet by the door, but she smiled at him.

'Looking for this?' she asked, lifting his Beretta off the counter top and waving it casually in front of her.

He frowned. The voice. He recognised the voice.

'Sit down Fernando' she said, gesturing to the stool next to her. 'We have lots to talk about. And you need to make some phone calls. It's going to be a busy morning.'

_Lincoln & Sara_

'What did he say this was about?' Sara asked as they got out of the car.

'He didn't' Lincoln answered. 'He sounded a little off on the phone, said he couldn't go into details…' Lincoln's voice trailed off as he looked at Sucre's apartment building. He frowned. Something was up, he knew it.

'You thinking we might be walking into something here?' Sara asked, nervously.

Lincoln didn't answer for a moment.

'No' he said, finally. 'I trust Sucre'

'Then let's go see what he wants' Sara said, closing the door. She set off towards the apartment building and Lincoln followed, scanning the car park and beyond.

They pressed the button for apartment 15 and he buzzed them in immediately.

'Come on up' Sucre's voice over the tannoy.

They went inside and up the stairs to Sucre's apartment. The door was ajar and Lincoln reached out and gently pulled Sara behind him. He opened the door cautiously, but caught sight of Sucre almost immediately. He was sitting at the breakfast bar and he smiled openly as he caught sight of Lincoln and Sara.

Lincoln exhaled a breath he hadn't realised he was holding and entered the apartment.

'Hey, man' he said, putting his hand out to Sucre.

'Hey, Pappy' Sucre said warmly, standing up to greet them both.

There was a woman sitting on the stool next to Sucre. It wasn't Maricruz. Lincoln glanced over her, then looked back, sure there was something familiar about her. The way she held herself, the attitude emanating from her even as she sat casually on a stool. It was Sara that recognised her first.

'Gretchen' she said, in disgust.

'What the hell-' Lincoln turned to Sucre, confusion and anger on his face. 'What is she doing here?'

'It's good to see you too Lincoln' Gretchen said, coolly. 'I see you haven't lost your charm. I've always liked that about you.'

'I thought you were dead' Lincoln said, brushing past her and opening the fridge door. He removed a beer, popped the top and took a long swig. 'Can't say I was broken up about it. What, did you change your hair or something?'

'Something like that' Gretchen retorted sarcastically.

'Pappy, she has something to tell us' Sucre said. 'Something incredible.'

'Tell them' he gestured to Lincoln and Sara, who both turned to look at Gretchen.

'First, I need to know you'll help me-' Gretchen began.

Lincoln exhaled in disgust and turned away.

'What have you brought her here for?' he asked Sucre, unable to keep the anger and frustration out of his voice. 'We are done with this! We've been done with this for four years!'

'Michael is alive' Gretchen announced, calmly. She held Lincoln's gaze as she watched his expression change. His brows knitted together and he was momentarily speechless. Sucre raised his hands in Gretchen's direction as if to answer Lincoln's question. Sara's hand flew to her mouth.

'You're crazy' Lincoln said, finally. 'Or you're a liar. Probably both.'

'Yes, I am' agreed Gretchen, cheerfully. 'But that doesn't change the fact that your brother left that prison in Miami very much alive.'

Behind her, Sara let out a cry and Sucre moved towards her. She looked like she was going to faint, and she put out a hand to steady herself.

'What the hell are you talking about?' Lincoln asked in disgust. 'Sara saw Michael die. She saw him blow the main fuse.'

'Did she?' asked Gretchen. She turned to Sara. 'Is that true Sara? Did you actually see Michael die?'

Sara was wide eyed with shock and her hand was still covering her mouth.

'I- yes, I saw him, I saw the sparks –' her mind was reeling.

'You saw sparks?' prodded Gretchen, watching the doubt creep over Sara's face. 'Did you actually see Michael get electrocuted?'

Sara stared at her, then she looked at Lincoln and Sucre, her mind working over the details of that night, more than four years ago now.

'No – but' she started.

Gretchen raised a hand in triumph.

'Well, he was very much alive in the warden's office' she said. 'After I got busted I was taken there. I heard them talking to him. He collapsed in there, and they had to get some medics to him, but he was alive when they wheeled him out. I'm sure of it.'

Sara whimpered again and sat down, her legs no longer able to hold her up. Her mind reeled. This wasn't possible! Michael alive? How could that be? And where was he? Why hadn't he contacted her?

Lincoln strode over to Gretchen and took hold of the collar of her shirt with both of his hands. He brought his face close to hers and shook her, unable to keep his anger under control.

'You listen to me' he said, speaking deliberately and slowly, menace in his every word. 'You need to leave here now. I don't want to see you ever again, do you understand? I don't care how much you've changed your face or your hair, you're still the same lying, scheming, cold hearted selfish bitch.'

Gretchen stared back at him, unflinchingly.

'Lincoln' Sara said, her voice strained and tremulous. 'What if she's telling the truth?'

'She's not' he said, loosening his grip on Gretchen's shirt and pushing her away from him. She recovered quickly and smoothed her clothes down.

'You've got such a way with the ladies Lincoln' she said, completely unfazed. She flashed her eyes playfully at him. 'I've missed being around such a strong man. Too many doctors lately.'

Lincoln raised his fist as though to punch her, but then turned away in disgust.

'Get out of here' he said, opening the fridge and getting another beer. Gretchen stood and picked up her purse.

'Lincoln?' Sara said again, her voice stronger this time.

'What?' he snapped, turning to face Sara.

She flinched, but carried on anyway.

'What if she is telling the truth?' she repeated.

'It's over Sara!' he said quietly. 'Michael is dead. I don't want that to be true any more than you do, but we've just started picking up the pieces again. You know we can't trust a word that woman says. You above all people know that!'

Sara shivered. The skin on her back prickled slightly.

'I don't trust her any more than you do' she said with a quiet determination. 'But if there is even a chance that Michael is still alive, then we have to listen to what she has to say.'

'I'm not listening to a word that woman says' he said, hotly. 'Even if it were true, that doesn't mean anything. It doesn't mean he's alive now. It's been over four years Sara. He would have found a way to get in touch with us. We would know!'

He turned away.

'Lincoln' She waited until he turned back to look at her. 'The whole time you were in Fox River, Michael never gave up on you. Even when things went bad and it looked like you were going to the chair – he never gave up. What would he do if he were here now and it was you we were talking about?'

Lincoln rubbed his stubble, his face and then his head. He knew she was right. Fox River seemed like another lifetime ago. Nobody wanted to believe Michael could be alive more than he did, but….. Gretchen? She had proved she couldn't be trusted. Repeatedly.

He looked over at Gretchen.

'Tell us what you know' he said gruffly. 'But if this turns out to be bullshit, I swear to God, you will need more than a plastic surgeon.'

'There you go again with the sweet talk' she said, arching her eyebrows.

'Just tell it' he growled.

'Ok, ok' she agreed.


	2. Chapter 2

_4 years ago. The day of the break_

_Michael_

Michael paced up and down the hotel room, his fingers laced across his head and a frown etched on his face. He stopped to study the pictures and the sketched plans of Miami Dade Penitentiary scattered on the table, then shook his head and started pacing again. There must be something he'd missed, some way he could get both him and Sara out of the chapel. He stopped to scan the pictures again, and he exhaled in frustration. It was no use. The hatch to the tunnel would not open if the fire alarm had been shut down. The gadget he'd just spent hours making would be useless. He and Sara would be trapped in the basement room, with only metal hatch standing between them and their freedom.

He needed Sara to be free. The sight of her during his last visit had had caused a guttural reaction in him – his stomach had clenched and his heart had ached so hard in his chest he had been momentarily unable to breathe. She had looked so fragile, close to being broken completely, and there was nothing he could do to protect her. Or their unborn child. He had to get her out of there. It was his fault she was in there. His fault she had ever got involved in any of this. And now this. This final _petty_ problem, the only flaw in the plan he had spent days concocting after Wheatley had upgraded the security on the fences. Frustration got the better of him and he kicked the table leg. The papers scattered on the table jumped but stayed put, the faces on the photographs of the security fences staring out impassively at him as he stood with his head in both hands.

There was no other way. He was pretty sure the fuse would have to be blown manually.

His head throbbed and he put the palms of his hand to his eyes and rubbed them tiredly. He knew what he would have to do. The fear in the pit of his stomach was not for himself, it was fear that Sara would not go along with it. He shook his head. He'd cross that bridge when he came to it.

A noise in the hallway made him jump and turned to look at the door to the room. Shadows, under the doorway. The lock on the room door disengaged quietly and he ducked into the bedroom. He heard the brush of the door on the carpet. Footsteps of people not trying very hard not to be heard entered the room and he flattened himself up against the doorframe, listening hard. He looked around the bedroom. He didn't have time for complications – Mahone was expecting him at the airfield in 30 minutes.

'Come out Michael, we know you are here' a female voice called.

Michael frowned. The voice was familiar, but he couldn't place it.

'Michael, I have 4 armed guards with me' the voice called again. 'Don't make us come looking for you. We're not here to kill you, we're here to talk.'

Michael scanned the room again. The bedroom window opened only a couple of inches and it was 19 floors off the ground. There wasn't even a balcony in this room. No time, no choice. He stepped into the doorway, his hands raised above his head.

Lisa Tabak stood coolly in the middle of the room, business suit and stilettos, surrounded by 4 burly guards. They all had their weapons drawn and raised them towards him as he stepped out.

'Hello Michael' Lisa said, looking him up and down. She smiled, but the coldness in her eyes was clear.

She looked down at the table, at the photos and diagrams spread there.

'I see you have found a new project' She picked up one of the photos of the perimeter fence and arched her eyebrows at him.

Michael said nothing. His mind was racing, and the throbbing in his temples was getting worse. All he could think of was getting out of here and to the airstrip in time. If he didn't get there in the next 25 minutes…..

'Lower your weapons' Lisa commanded the guards. She turned her gaze on Michael. 'You must love her very much' she said softly, a mixture of admiration and envy in her voice.

'What do you want?' Michael asked, returning her gaze.

'I want to help you Michael' She picked up a photo of the prison fence and looked at it, flicking her gaze over the top of it to him.

'Really.' Said Michael, flatly, glancing up at the clock behind her. 'Why would you do that?'

'Because… you can't do it without my help' she said confidently. 'And because of what my father did to you. I want to try and make it up to you.'

'I don't believe you' Michael rubbed his hands together, his thumb working anxiously on the palm of his right hand. He didn't have the time to be having this conversation. He had to get the plane and Mahone, or his whole plan to get Sara out was going to fail. 'You people never do anything unless there is something in it for you.'

Lisa smiled tightly.

'You're right Michael,' she said. 'There is another reason.'

'Yeah, well I'm not interested.' Michael stepped towards the table to retrieve his backpack. The four guards immediately lifted their guns and trained them on him. He raised his hands and exhaled in frustration.

'Boys, boys' Lisa chided softly. 'There is no need for such aggression. Michael will hear me out. He has no other choice. After all, he knows there is no way to get both him and Sara out of that prison alive'

Michael's head snapped up and he stared at her through narrowed eyes. How the hell could she know he was planning to be inside?

'Relax Michael,' she said, pulling out a chair and sitting down. She crossed her legs delicately at the ankle, for all the world looking like a business woman in an office meeting. She gestured to the chair opposite her. 'Sit, please.'

Michael looked at the four semi-automatic weapons pointed at him and knew he had no choice. He needed to know how much Lisa actually knew about his plan. He pulled out the chair and sat down.

'What is it you want?' he asked

'I want you Michael' Lisa said simply. She retrieved a folder from the briefcase next to her and laid it on the table, her hands resting on top of it. She took a breath before continuing.

'I know what you have planned tonight. I know that you are planning your escape from the chapel. I know that there is an emergency escape tunnel from the chapel to the southern fence. And I know that there is a hatch leading from the room to the tunnel that you will not be able to open.'

Michael stared at her, his brows knitted together in frustration. How could she have figured this out? How could she have known about the chapel? The answer came instantly. Gretchen. But there was no love lost between Lisa and Gretchen – why would she sell them out, hampering her own chances of escaping along with Sara?

'What is it you want?' Michael spoke slowly, emphasising every word.

'I want you to come and work for me Michael.' Lisa said, pushing the folder across the table towards him. 'I want you to come and work for The Company. We may have lost Scylla, but we have all of your mother's original research and data. We need you to make sense of them…. and continue her work.'

Michael sat back, putting distance between him and the folder. 'You know that will never happen' he said, his voice steely. 'I would rather die than work for the Company.'

'Michael, don't be so dramatic' Lisa said dismissively. 'The Company is changing. My father is gone, I'm in charge now. Things can be different. Things _will_ be different. _I_ am different. We can do things differently – we can do good'

She sounded sincere, but Michael knew better than to trust anything related to The Company.

'I'm sorry, Lisa, you're wasting your time.' Michael said, glancing back up at the clock. 'You're wasting both of our time. I'll never work for you.'

'There is no way you are getting Sara out of there tonight without my help' Lisa reached into her briefcase again and withdrew some photos. She spread them on the table in front of him. They were aerial shots of the perimeter fence, including the south east corner where he planned for Sara to emerge in approximately 2 hours time…. with or without him. He scanned them quickly, taking in the details – the guards, the fence, the cameras.

'There are guards all over the perimeter fence – including where the tunnel comes out. There is no way past them. Unless… some of them could be persuaded to be elsewhere.'

'I don't need your kind of persuasion' Michael stood up, pushing the chair back. 'Now, I need to leave. Your guards are going to have to shoot me if you want to stop me.'

'Just how exactly are you planning to blow that hatch?' Lisa asked, leaning forward and grabbing his wrist. 'The FBI are all over that prison, and they are dying to take you, dead or alive, it doesn't matter. You must know that.'

Michael looked down at her and met her gaze.

'My life for hers, I'm ready for that' Michael said softly.

'Don't be a fool Michael' she said. 'You don't have to die to give your life to save hers.'

'I'm dying anyway' Michael said through gritted teeth, surprising himself with the admission. He felt a familiar trickle of blood running down his nose and a drop of blood dropped onto the folder on the table.

'I know' she said, reaching into the pocket of her suit jacket. For a moment he thought she was going to offer him a tissue, but she withdrew a small vial and held it up for him to see. 'But that's because you haven't been give your post-op meds. My father thought he would keep a reason for you to come back.'

He put his hand to his nose and wiped the blood away, smearing it across his face.

'Come to us Michael. Don't give your life away tonight as though it is something invaluable ' She let go of his wrist and took his hand. 'We will help you get Sara out. We can treat your tumour again, this time you'll get the tumour suppressant drugs my father didn't give you last time. In return, you give your life to The Company, carrying on your Mother's work. We will put her research to use for good, I promise.'

Michael stared at the folder on the table, his mind whirring madly. If he could just think _clearly_. He rubbed his forehead with the palm of his hand as though this would ease the cloudiness, but it was no good. Was there a way for them all to get out of this alive? He was fully prepared to go with his original plan… but he couldn't risk Sara not getting out now that Lisa had figured out most of his plan. She would be dead within a day or two, he knew that. He looked at Lisa and she met his gaze with a steely one of her own. How far could he trust her?

'Wouldn't it be good to be able to see your child grow up?' she pressed.

He looked at her sharply. She sat back, her fingers pressed together in a steeple.

'Of course, it would have to be from a distance, just as your parents did' she continued, casually. 'But you and Lincoln turned out all right. Eventually.'

An image of him putting flowers on his mother's grave as a child flashed into his mind. Now he knew that his mother had watched him put those flowers there every year. Could he do the same to his own child? His heart ached at the thought of it but he knew that his child would not survive unless he succeeded in getting Sara out tonight.

He sighed and sat back down. For now, he would have to go along with this. He could figure a way out later.

'Ok' he said resignedly. 'What's your plan?'


	3. Chapter 3

_Lincoln_

Lincoln stared unseeingly out of the window as the 4x4 sped through the Miami countryside to the dock. He hadn't spoken since they'd left the prison. Since he'd realised his brother was dead. The brother that had sacrificed everything for him – his career, his future, his freedom… and now his life. How had it come to this? How had borrowing the money to put Michael through college have got them to this point, this awful point, where Michael was dead. All of the choices Lincoln had made in his life, all those stupid, drunken choices, the irresponsible decisions – well irresponsible lack of decisions more accurately – and the ones he'd made thinking he was doing the right thing, had led up to this point. The point where Sara emerged with her freedom and her life, but his brother did not follow.

'Where's Michael?' he had asked as Sara had come stumbling from the prison, glancing backwards fearfully as she reached the gate.

'Sara, where's Michael?' he said, again.

She had only been able to look at him, her eyes bright with shock, and the stunned expression on her face told him the answer.

He had walked over to the fence and stared at the exit door, willing Michael to come running through it so they could make their escape, as they'd always done. Together. But the door stayed shut, and Lincoln knew instantly and instinctively that this was the one escape he and Michael would not be making together. He put his hand on the fence to steady himself.

'He's not coming back'

It was Mahone, behind him, speaking softly.

'What do you mean he's not coming back?' he took a few shaky breaths and exhaled, puffing out his cheeks, his eyes still on the door. 'What do you mean by that?'

'He's not coming back' Mahone had said again, softly.

Now, sitting in the car, minutes away from the boat that would take them to a new life, the one they'd been dreaming of since all if this had begun, he felt strangely detached. The whole situation seemed impossible. The sun was coming up, it's bright rays lighting the sky up ahead and casting a warm orange glow over the Miami countryside. How could they be sitting here, and the sun shining if Michael was laying cold and dead in the prison? It wasn't possible that this was how it was all going to end.

'Michael asked me to give you this' Mahone took a folded piece of paper from his jacket pocket and handed it to Sara. 'He said it might help you understand why he did what he did.'

Sara unfolded it and looked at it briefly before holding it out to Lincoln.

'It's his bloodwork' she said, flatly.

Lincoln took it and scanned down the page, past the numbers and the stuff he didn't really understand to the neatly typed paragraph under 'Results/Recommendations'

'Based upon the results of the patient's bloodwork, it is recommended that the patient seek immediate care for a treatment plan…..' the words blurred and he glimpsed 'tumour activity'

His squeezed his eyes shut, nausea threatening to overwhelm him. He turned back to the window, blinking rapidly and swallowing hard. Why hadn't Michael told him? Everything they had been through together, and Michael hadn't told him this? The thought that his younger brother had been keeping this to himself, going through the thought of dying, alone, was too much for Lincoln to bear. He was suddenly inexplicably angry at Michael. How could he do this? How could he have deprived him of an opportunity to be there for him, to repay him for everything he had done since this whole mess started? Now, all the things that had gone unsaid between them would remain unsaid. He'd never had the chance to properly thank him, tell him how proud he was to have him as a brother…now he never would.

He glanced over at Sara, the woman carrying Michael's child. She and the baby were the only family he had left besides LJ. He swore silently to himself that he would do whatever it took to protect Sara and make sure her and Michael's baby grew up safe and loved. With a better start than he and Michael had got. Sara caught his gaze and the two of them looked at each other, loss and fear written clearly on both of their faces. Michael's absence made the future a much more frightening place to be – even the plan of getting to Costa Rica seemed more difficult and dangerous without his confident planning, his complete self-assurance in a plan with every detail considered.

'We're going to be ok' Lincoln said to her softly, although he didn't believe it himself.

She nodded, even though she didn't believe him either, her eyes bright with tears that refused to fall yet.

Lincoln turned away and went back to staring out of the window. Sara closed her eyes and wished for sleep to come and take her to a place where she didn't have to face the awful reality of a future without the only man she had ever loved. She leaned her head up against the window as the car sped along the highway towards the ocean.


	4. Chapter 4

_Michael_

Michael's anger and frustration was reaching a peak as he paced up and down in the warden's office. He rubbed at his head, his face contorted with pain and worry as he remembered the look on Sara's face as he had kissed her goodbye. Had she made it out? Had Lisa made good on her promise of getting rid of the guards at the southern corner? How would he ever make this up to Sara – she would be thinking he was dead right now.

The men that had grabbed and pinned him as he stood ready to sacrifice his life for Sara's freedom stood in the office with him, their weapons drawn and their eyes fixed on him. He had watched helplessly as one of them had placed a small C4 charge on the fuse box, while two others set down a body dressed in clothes like his on the floor. They had barely looked back as they had detonated the explosives, blowing open the hatch as he was dragged away.

He rubbed his hands anxiously and glanced at his watch, figuring out how many minutes had passed since he had been dragged up here, trying to imagine where Sara would be now. According to his schedule, and assuming that everything had gone according to plan, they should be at the harbour. Would she have made it to the boat yet?

The door opened and the warden entered, followed closely by Lisa.

He stared in disbelief. The _warden_? Was there no place safe from The Company's reach?

'Relax Michael,' Lisa said. 'Sara made it out ok. She is with Lincoln. They arrived at the harbour about ten minutes ago. They're on the boat already'

'How do I know you're telling me the truth?' he asked, his brows knitted together and his eyes narrowed.

'Michael, you have real trust issues' she said lightly, shaking her head, but she withdrew her phone and showed him a photo.

'This was sent just a few minutes ago' she said, setting the phone down on the table.

Michael stared at the image on the screen. He could see Sunset Harbour, and the boat he had planned for him, Sara and Lincoln to sail away on in the background. The black 4x4 was parked in front of the railing surrounding the dock, and one of the doors was open. Lincoln stood at the open door, holding his hand out to the woman in prison sweats getting out. Mahone was in the background. He had kept his word. His breath caught in his throat. Sara was safe. She was with Lincoln. Michael let out a silent sigh of relief.

'I kept my word Michael' Lisa continued. 'Now you need to keep yours.'

She turned to the warden, who had stood silently up to this point.

'Alice, thank you for your help this evening' she put out her hand.

'You're welcome, Lisa' the warden replied, taking the offered hand and shaking it. 'Just make sure this doesn't come back on me, ok?'

'Already taken care of' Lisa smiled, a barely there smile, and Michael knew someone somewhere was paying a very high price for Sara's freedom. He hoped the body in the basement was the only one.

Lisa turned to Michael.

'Let's get you out of here' she said, briskly. 'You need medical treatment, and then you have work to do.'

Michael nodded, rubbing his eyes wearily. He was tired and hurting. He would figure out a way back to Sara and Lincoln soon. Right now, he could barely think straight. It was as though the tumour growing in his brain was getting the better of him now that he knew Sara was safe. The fight had gone out of him. His legs felt weak and unsteady, and a trickle of blood ran down his nose.

'Michael' Lisa's voice seemed to be coming from miles away and he tried to focus on her. His vision tunnelled and blackness started to creep in from the sides. A wave of dizziness overcame him and he felt his knees buckle. The floor was moving, how could that be? He frowned as he saw it moving towards him, his brain unable to process what was going on. It was only as his arm caught the warden's desk that he realised that it wasn't the floor moving up, but himself falling down.

'Michael!' he heard the voice as he hit the floor but he could no longer see anything around him. There was a roar in his ears, as though water were surrounding him and swirling all around him leaving him dizzy and breathless. Then, mercifully, blackness.


	5. Chapter 5

_Lisa_

'We have to get him out of here – now!' Lisa could hear the panic rising in her voice and she tried to quell it. Now was not the time to show any sign of weakness. Her plan was so close to being pulled off.

Michael lay in a heap on the floor, his body jerking with seizures and blood trickling from his nose.

Alice was already on the phone.

'Get the medics in here' she ordered into the receiver.

The door opened and two medics wheeled in a gurney. They collapsed it near Michael's unconscious body and one of them knelt down to take his pulse. The other withdrew a hypodermic from his lab coat and rolled the sleeve up on Michael's arm. He looked up at Lisa, confused. This hadn't been part of the deal.

'Ma'am this man is having a seizure,' he said.

'Yes I know that!' Lisa snapped. 'I'm not an idiot!'

'If I give him this sedative now, he could die' he said.

'If you don't give it to him, you will die' she said steel in her voice. Two of her guards clicked the safety off their guns to back her up. The medic nearly dropped the syringe in fright, and Lisa smiled thinly.

'Now, give it to him.' she ordered. 'We need to get him out of here'

The medic turned and inserted the needle into Michael's arm, administering a powerful sedative. The second man checked his pulse again.

'Weak, but it's there' he confirmed.

Lisa breathed an inward sigh of relief. She had no stomach for killing anyone and she needed Michael alive.

'Good. Now get him on the gurney.'

Her guards and the two medics lifted Michael's limp body into a body bag and onto the gurney. Lisa pulled the zip up, hesitating slightly as she reached his head. She reminded herself silently of the reason for doing all of this and pulled the zip closed. She turned to the medics.

'Get him to the facility' she said, urgently. 'Get Dr Rothwell on the phone now and tell him to meet us there. He needs surgery immediately.'

'Yes, ma'am' the medics rolled Michael out of the warden's office. Alice Simms followed the medics out and closed the door behind her. Outside, the FBI agents, police and prison staff were swarming.

'This is another one of my men going to the morgue, Agent Wheatley!' Lisa could hear Alice's voice on the other side. Accusatory tone. The woman was good. 'Is there any word on Tancredi and Gretchen Morgan yet?'

'Choppers are in the air, there are road blocks on every road for a 2 mile radius. They're not getting away' Wheatley's voice sounded strong, but it lacked a little conviction. He had been shaken by the blackened and burned beyond all recognition body in the bowels of the chapel. The body he had thought to be Michael's.

They're making us all look like fools!'

She gestured to medics and they pushed the gurney down the hallway to the waiting van. Inside the office, Lisa moved to the window and watched as they loaded him up in the back of the van with 'Medical Examiner's Office' blazoned on the side. As they drove off, she realised her hands she had been holding her breath and her hands were shaking.

She took a deep breath and gestured to her men at the door at the side of the office.

'Bring her in' she ordered, hoping her voice sounded stronger than she felt.

The man nodded and opened the door. Two men half carried, half dragged Gretchen into the room. She was bound and gagged and she stumbled as they let go of her and fell to her knees in front of Lisa.

Lisa looked down on the woman with disgust. What on earth her father had seen in this faithless, lying whore she would never understand. She reached down and unceremoniously ripped the tape from Gretchen's mouth. Gretchen gasped involuntarily, but stared up at Lisa defiantly. She got to her feet slowly and patted down her tatty prison attire.

'Lisa' she muttered, through gritted teeth.

'You were supposed to get out with Tancredi' Lisa said, looking at her distastefully. 'It's going to be more difficult to get you out now.'

'Yeah well, things went south' Gretchen said sourly. 'But I gave you both Scofields, now get me out of here.'

'Oh we'll get you out all right' Lisa said, her voice like ice. 'We have a plane waiting to fly you out of the country.'

'What are you talking about?' Gretchen was wrestling with her cuffs.

'I want you gone from my life Gretchen,' said Lisa. 'For good this time. I've had $1 million wired to an account in Grand Cayman.'

'$1 million!' Gretchen spat. 'The deal was ten!'

'Yeah well, you shouldn't have killed those guards at the south east corner, should you?'

'What?!'

'You left so much evidence too… your fingerprints, the weapon… your' she stepped over to Gretchen and put her hand in her hair. She yanked a handful. 'Hair'

Gretchen didn't cry out. She stared up at Lisa, hate in her eyes.

'They will all be discovered in about, ooh 5 minutes' Lisa looked coolly at her watch. She lowered her face near to Gretchen's and dropped her voice to a whisper. 'And then you'll become one of the most wanted felons in the US. Better run far, far away from here. And never, ever return.'

She shoved Gretchen and the woman fell on the floor. Lisa held out the handful of hair to one of the men next to Gretchen, then wiped her hand on her suit, as though getting rid of a smudge of dirt on her hand, and she turned her back.

'Get her out of here' she ordered to the guards. 'Make sure she gets on that plane'

'Yes, ma'am' the guards said in unison. They each took one of Gretchen's elbows and dragged her to the side door.

'I'll say goodbye to my father for you' said Lisa, not even looking at Gretchen now. 'Don't come back'

'You always were a cold hearted bitch' Gretchen spat. 'You couldn't stand the idea that he loved me more, could you?'

Lisa didn't even turn around.

'My father never loved you Gretchen' she said, icily. 'He just loved screwing you.' She turned to the guard holding Gretchen's right arm. 'Get her out, before I change my mind!'

Gretchen knew when to shut up, but she glared hatefully at Lisa as the guards dragged her out. As the door closed, Lisa was left alone in the office. She realised she was shaking and she gripped the side of the desk and took a few deep calming breaths. She didn't have the steel of her father, he had gotten used to dealing with this kind of conflict in the military. She was a business woman, not a thug.

Realising there was going to be many more tough decisions and brave faces before this was over, she took a deep breath in and turned to face the door as her old college friend Alice Simms came back into the room.

'Alice' she smiled coolly. 'Thank you again for your help this evening. It will not be forgotten.'

The warden nodded, but her face was uncertain and she swallowed hard. Helping an old friend was one thing, but she had just helped fake the death of the man responsible for breaking into her prison, assisted with the break out of two of her own inmates and lied to federal agents. She was going to end up a prisoner in her own building at this rate.

'Everything is taken care of' Lisa said, as if reading the other woman's mind. 'There is no evidence to come back to you. Stick to the story we've given.'

Alice lifted her eyes and fixed her gaze on Lisa. 'And what about my guard?'

Lisa frowned, not understanding.

'My guard – Antoine DeMarco, he was a married man, a father…and now he's a blackened lump in the morgue.' Her eyes filled with tears. 'For what? Just to buy a few hours? Just waiting to be discovered as not being Michael Scofield.'

She could hear the hysteria in her voice, and so could Lisa. She took two or three steps closer to the warden, and the warden flinched involuntarily.

'Alice' Lisa took a breath and laid a hand on the warden's arm. 'I'm sorry but there was no other way. If it helps, he was an alcoholic and he beat his wife.'

Alice looked at her, unsure of whether or not to believe the last part, but totally sure that it did not make things any better at all. She shook her head.

'Alice' Lisa warned. 'You do realise that if word were to get out about your…indiscretions.. your career here would be over? Your family devastated. I've protected you from that. I've also had the security tape from this office removed and I'll be taking it with me. It shows you with Scofield in here tonight, after he supposedly died in your chapel basement. I was careful, so it does not show me at all.'

Alice's jaw dropped open a little as she realised the gravity of Lisa's words.

'Stick to the story. Everything will be fine,' Lisa reached for her purse from the warden's desk and turned to go. 'You know I'll protect you'

Alice could barely look Lisa in the eye. 'I know that Lisa' she said in a low voice.

'Then our business here this evening is between you and I' Lisa finished briskly. 'Make sure it stays that way.'

Alice nodded her assent, her gaze averted. Lisa knew a defeated woman when she saw one. There would be no comeback here.

'Show me the way to my car' she ordered, and Alice led her to the fire exit.

As she got into the back seat of the waiting Sedan, Lisa caught a glimpse of her oldest friend in the window. Her head was bowed, she looked crushed. She raised her hand but did not even look at Lisa directly. Lisa pushed away the feelings of guilt at crushing her oldest friend like this. Things would be different soon. She just needed to get some people on board first.

_Gretchen_

Gretchen knew when to shut up and act defeated. Live to fight another day, she told herself as the Lisa's two thugs put a cloth bag over her head and threw her in the trunk of a waiting car. The lid slammed closed, leaving her in complete darkness, and she was thrown up against the back of the trunk as the car lurched forward. She was just relieved that she had stuck with her gut feeling on whether to tell Lisa about Emily. At least Lisa didn't know about her…. yet.

The car was stopped at the exit to the penitentiary and muffled words were exchanged, then they were on their way again, speeding through the night. She was still bound at the wrists and unable to steady herself and, as the car twisted and turned at high speed, she was thrown around the trunk of the car.

Her hands worked furiously at the duct tape securing her wrists and she reached around in the trunk for anything sharp on which to rub it. The car slowed to a stop and she held her breath for a moment. The engine continued to run, and she figured they must be stopped at some traffic lights. Feeling around blindly again, she felt a cool metal bar sticking out. The trunk latch. It wasn't particularly sharp, but she began rubbing the tape up against it with all the strength she had. She knew there was no way Lisa was going to let her live. She had set her up as the murderer of the guards at the gate where Sara had escaped, she knew what was in store for her now, and it certainly wasn't a plane ride to Grand Cayman and a million dollars. She had to get out of here. She had to save her daughter. Lisa didn't know where she was, but it wouldn't take her long to find out and she wouldn't want another heir to the General's money hanging around.

She had heard some of the conversation while she had been waiting in the room next to the warden's. Scofield was alive, she was sure of it. But she had heard the warden tell the FBI agents he was dead. That information would be worth something at some point. She wasn't sure how yet, but that didn't matter right now. What mattered now was getting out of this trunk before the two thugs that were in the front killed her and left her for the cops to find. They would need to dump her pretty close to the prison to make it fit with the escape story - she needed to work fast. She exhaled in frustration as the car set off, then braked suddenly, throwing her backwards into the trunk away from the latch. She jammed her feet up against the wheel arch and wriggled her body around into a V-shape position that would keep her more stable. Her fingers found the latch once more and she manoeuvred the tape over it and rubbed furiously, beads of sweat running down her forehead and her breath hot inside the bag covering her face.

She didn't have much time.

_Michael_

He was moving he knew that. There was a steady hum of an engine, he was in some sort of vehicle. The motion was fairly steady, which was a good thing because his arms and legs were so heavy he couldn't move them to steady himself when he was jolted. His head throbbed viciously and he didn't have the strength to open his eyes. He could hear muffled voices, but couldn't make out any words. It was as though he was under water, robbed of his senses. It was dark he knew that. The vehicle was slowing, he could feel his body being pushed forward and he was powerless to stop it. Clicking. He frowned, trying to focus on the noise and what it meant, but his brain wouldn't work clearly. Hot needles pierced his brain when he tried to concentrate. Everything seemed jumbled around. He tried to lift an arm to his head, but it felt like lead, and remained pinned to his side.

He opened his mouth to try and say something but he couldn't think of what he wanted to say. His mouth stayed open for a few seconds, no words coming out. His body jolted unceremoniously and swayed to the left. He felt his body being pinned by some unseen force. Turning. The vehicle must be turning. He nodded, pleased that he had managed to figure that out. He closed his mouth and tried to remember what had happened to him before he was here. The force on his body eased and he was laid flat and still again. He focused hard on the voices. What were they saying? He could hear music too, but couldn't tell what type.

A few jumbled thoughts came to him. Standing in the warden's office. Breaking into the fuse box in the chapel basement. Sparks and burned flesh. _Sara_. He tried to lift his arms again but they didn't even feel like they belonged to him. He heard a noise, a new sound, closer and not as muffled. It sounded like a man talking and he focused hard on it trying to make it out. Then he realised that he was making the sound himself, a strangled moaning sound, coming from his own throat. Exhausted by the effort of working this out, his body went limp and he drifted out of consciousness once more.


	6. Chapter 6

_Gretchen_

She felt the car come to a halt and the engine died. This was it. Do or die, baby, she told herself. Her heart was racing in her chest as she got onto her hands and knees and clutched the car jack in both hands. She would only get one shot at this and she didn't know for sure how many of them there were. There were at least two, she reckoned. The two guards that had dragged her out. There might be more. She would have to improvise. Her hands were sweaty and she let go of the jack for a second to wipe her palms on her prison jumpsuit.

She heard the car doors being opened and listened intently to how many closed. The car shook slightly to the left and then the right as two of them slammed shut. Ok, she figured only two to deal with so far. There might be another guy in the back seat, but she would have to deal with that after she'd taken the first two.

Footsteps, three, four. Any second now. She gripped the jack once more and steeled herself. The lock on the trunk popped open quietly and the trunk opened just slightly. She leaned forward and saw fingers reach under the trunk to lift it. She took a breath and, as the trunk lifted slightly, she swung the jack outwards with as much strength as she could muster. It made contact even before the trunk had opened all of the way and there was a cry of pain and surprise from the first guard as it hit him full in the stomach. He staggered back, knocking the second guard off balance slightly as he did. Gretchen knew she wouldn't have the advantage for long and she launched herself out of the trunk straight at the second guard. He went down and she fell on top of him, throwing punches as fast as she could.

He was startled but he recovered quickly and he raised his arm and caught her fist in one hand. She jolted her leg upwards as violently as she could, catching him squarely in the groin. He exhaled with a grunt and loosened his grip enough for her to free her hand, but she could see the first guard was already getting up of the ground no more than 3 feet away. She put her hand under the jacket of the guard underneath her, praying he was carrying a gun. He was. She snapped it out of its holster and flicked the safety off in one smooth, well rehearsed movement. The guard shifted below her as he realised what she had done and he made a grab for her arm. She twisted off him, throwing herself onto the ground as far away from him as she could, rolling and coming to rest in a crouching position, gun trained on the two men.

Instantly, they both raised their hands.

'Whoa, whoa' the first guard said. 'No harm done, lady. We were just dropping you off.'

'Yeah, right' said Gretchen, sourly, glancing around. They were in the middle of nowhere. 'I thought you were supposed to be putting me on a plane?'

'Yeah, we were' said the second guard, standing up slowly, his hand still hovering near his tender crotch. 'But we thought we would just let you out. You know that plane wasn't taking you anywhere good.'

The first guard was nodding in agreement.

'Yeah, we were just going to let you-'

'Shut up.' Said Gretchen. 'You brought me out here to kill me, I know that.' She stood up slowly, her legs screaming in pain from being hunched up in the trunk.

'No, we weren't going to kill you –' the first guard stopped talking and a small circle of blood appeared on the left side of his shirt, just below the collarbone. A look of surprise and shock crept over his face as he glanced down, then up at Gretchen. 'Wh- wu' he started

Gretchen fired again.

'I told you to shut up' she said, coldly.

The guard collapsed onto his knees and fell, face first, into the dust.

The second guard's mouth dropped open in shock and he seemed momentarily paralysed. Then, he recovered and reached for his own gun.

'Don't!' shouted Gretchen, training the gun on him.

He ignored her and started to withdraw his weapon, thumb glancing across the safety mechanism.

Gretchen didn't hesitate. She fired three times, two in the chest and one in the head. All three met their mark and the man staggered backwards and fell over.

Damn. She wasn't going to get any information from these two now. She certainly didn't need another two deaths on her rap sheet either. Still, it was unavoidable. She shrugged, dusting herself down and thinking fast. She walked around the car cautiously, gun in front of her until she was satisfied there was nobody else in the back seat. She got in and locked the doors behind her, breathing a sigh of relief when she felt the keys in the ignition. She started the car and peered out of the front windscreen, wondering if she could safely drive along here with no lights on. She had no idea where she was and the car seemed to be on some kind of dirt road. She pulled forward a little, squinting into the darkness in front of her. Off in the distance, she could make out the rows of pin pricks lights signalling a highway. She pointed the car towards them and accelerated as much as she dared. She needed to get away fast, as far away as possible. Lisa's men weren't the only concern, the Florida State police and the FBI would be hunting her and Sara too. She wondered briefly how far Sara had got but then pushed her out of her mind. She had to take care of herself. She had to get to Emily before The Company did.

_Sara_

Sarah sat on the deck of the boat, staring unseeingly out to sea. She felt completely numb. As if the massive shock that had coursed through Michael's body had also short circuited her, leaving her frozen, emotionless, empty. She could feel nothing. She still hadn't been able to cry yet. Her hair blew around her wildly, whipping her face as the boat ploughed steadily across the ocean, salt spray misting her whole body. She didn't feel it.

She couldn't stop replaying the final moments of the breakout in her mind. She had relived it hundreds of times already in the hours since she had stumbled free from Miami Dade Penitentiary. She had pictured dozens of different scenarios, but all of them ended with Michael following her out of the escape hatch to the van where Lincoln, Mahone and Sucre were waiting. If she could just go back, just a few hours, and say something different to him, make him choose a different way, _do_ something different. It was agonisingly raw.

'Go Sara' the words echoed in her mind. His eyes had been bright with tears, but his face set in determination. Was there anything she could have said to him to stop him from what he had planned?

Just a few hours ago, he had been alive. But this, the way things had ended, this was unbearable. Michael was dead. How could he have done this to her? How could he have assumed that she would be ok, that she would be able to go on without him?

'Go Sara' The last thing he had ever said to her. The last thing he would ever say to her. And now, here she was. On the boat that was supposed to be carrying both of them away to a new life, as a family. This wasn't the 'One day' he's promised her.  
>She crossed her arms around herself and laid her hands on her belly, resting lightly on the baby she knew was growing in there. Michael's baby. This baby, this new responsibility for a life born from her and Michael's love for each other was the only thing that had kept her from running back to him the second she saw the sparks. The sparks. That's all she could see when she closed her eyes. The baby was what changed things, what made her finally feel what Michael felt – a responsibility for others greater than the one to herself. Michael had taught her more about love and responsibility than she would have ever dreamed possible just a year or two ago.<p>

He had died being exactly who he was when he'd lived, careless for his own life and risking everything to protect those he loved. But how could he have thought that giving his own life would not destroy her? Why had he made it his responsibility to save her? Why couldn't he have just left her, just for once saved himself? All of the fighting, the running, the scheming and deaths they had endured over the last 2 years…. It was all for nothing now that Michael was gone. It was so completely wrong. He had been the only thing that was good about this whole mess. She wanted to scream and shout at the unfairness of it all, but her throat felt constricted and her chest leaden. She wanted to punch and kick things but her limbs felt lifeless and alien. What was she supposed to do now?

She heard movement behind her and turned her head slightly as she felt Lincoln's hand on her shoulder. She leaned back into him. Neither of them had spoken a word since watching the video Michael had left for them.

'We'll be in Mexico in a few hours' Lincoln said. 'We're going to take a break there before heading down to Panama.' She nodded and stared back out to sea. Thinking about the last time she had been in Panama. Michael had been alive then.

'What do we do now?' she said, her voice was weak and shaky. She stood up and gripped onto the railing on the side of the boat.

'We live Sara' Lincoln said, slowly. 'That's what he wanted'

She turned to face him. Live? How could she live another fifty or so years, empty days filled only with his absence? She was a fugitive and a widow, pregnant with a child that would never know his father. Would never know how wonderful, loving and compassionate he was. How could she live like that?

'Live?' she said, slowly. 'How?' She heard the desperation in her own voice, the disbelief that this would even be possible.

'It's what he died for Sara' answered Lincoln, his face a mask of determination, but his own pain still evident in his eyes.

'How could he do this to me Lincoln?' she shouted. 'How could he leave me alone? How could he think that I could ever get through this without him?'

Lincoln said nothing. The anguish on his face was like a mirror for her own. She knew he was hurting too, but she couldn't bring herself to try and comfort him in his misery. She was too wrapped up in her own. He moved to put his arms around her but she pushed him away weakly. He reached for her again, putting his hands on her shoulders and bending his head to look her in the eyes.

'It's going to be all right Sara' his deep voice was low and full of pain, he didn't believe his own words.

'It's not going to be all right!' Sara shouted, flailing her fists wildly, punching him on the arms and shoulders. 'It's never going to be all right again! Michael is dead, Lincoln!'

Lincoln flinched, then grabbed her wrists and pulled her to him.

Finally, the pain overcame her. The memory of the last time she had seen him, the tender way he had kissed her, the taste of his tears as he had told her he loved her for the last time and sight of the sparks as the explosion happened as she stood in the doorway waiting to escape. The pain surged up from within her and made her ache all over. Her body shaking uncontrollably, she collapsed weakly against Lincoln, unable to get her breath as the panic took over. He was gone. She would never see him again. Huge wracking sobs took over her, she could hear them coming out of her body, but it was if she was a bystander, looking at someone else's grief.

They stood together like that for a while, her fragile body supported by Lincoln, united in their grief and lost in their own thoughts. Michael had sacrificed so much for both of them, and now, the ultimate sacrifice. There was no going back. A life in Panama, a life without Michael, awaited.


	7. Chapter 7

_Michael_

When he awoke, it was dark. He could hear beeping of monitors and he knew he was in a hospital room, but he had no recollection of getting here. He lifted his hand gingerly, an IV line trailing his arm as he felt his head. It was wrapped in bandages. He turned his head slowly, remembering the excruciating pain just before he had blacked out. It hurt, but not like before. It was a different kind of pain now, and the pressure that had felt like it was squeezing his brain over the last few days had eased. He looked around. In the gloom, the room was bare. Besides his bed, the only other piece of furniture was a nightstand and the monitors he was attached to. Rain poured down the window just past the foot of the bed. He closed his eyes tightly and tried to clear the fog in his head. The night he'd broken Sara out of prison had been clear.

The door opened softly and he could just make out the outline of a woman against the light spilling in from behind her.

'Sara?' he whispered, his voice hoarse.

'You're awake' a female voice, brisk and business-like. Not Sara.

Michael's eyes closed in despair. He tried to think back. The explosion. The sparks. Sara at the harbour with Lincoln. He relaxed as memories of standing in the wardens office came back to him.

The nurse laid a hand on his arm. 'How are you feeling?' she asked, gently.

'Tired' Michael said, truthfully, even though had just woken up. 'How long have I been out?'

'You came in a few days ago' said nurse, removing a blood pressure cuff from a nearby stand and wrapping it around his left arm. 'You had your surgery yesterday. They wanted to wait until you were awake for it…but it was looking like you were not going to wake up.'

'Where am I?' Michael tried to sit up, but she laid her hand on his arm again.

'Take it easy, Mr Scofield' she said. 'That was some major surgery you had. Rest easy for now, ok?' She pumped up the cuff and watched the display on the stand as it deflated. She seemed satisfied with the result and picked up the clip board from the end of the bed and began jotting down notes.

'I need to know if Sara and my brother are ok' Michael said, watching her carefully for a reaction.

'I've been told to tell you that everything went according to plan' she said, looking him in the eyes for the first time. She shrugged. 'Whatever that means'

She waited, as if expecting Michael to explain it to her, but he just continued to look at her, as if trying to judge the sincerity of her words. She returned his gaze for a few moments, but then realised he was going to say nothing. She hung the clipboard back on the end of the bed.

'The doctor will be in to see you now you're awake' she said. She turned to the door, but then turned back and looked at him thoughtfully.

'You're a lucky man, Mr Scofield' she said, gently. 'You were in bad shape when you came in. I didn't think you would make it. Get some rest.'

Michael sank back against the pillow, exhausted with the effort of trying to sit up. It was ok to rest. He had been fighting and running for years. Lincoln and Sara were safe. He could rest awhile. As she left the room, Michael heard the distinctive click of a lock turning. He was a prisoner again, but that was ok. Sara and the baby were free.

Days passed, marked only by the arrival of food, medicine and the nurses. He slept a lot. The doctor came in twice a day and examined the wound and performed neurological tests on him. He was getting stronger, he could feel it. His head felt lighter somehow, his thoughts clearer day by day. His dreams and his waking thoughts were filled with Sara and the baby, and how he was going to get back to them. They would be safely in Panama by now. He had moments of panic when the thought that something could have happened to them while he had been out, and he resolved to make Lisa send him some recent pictures. As soon as she showed up.

He didn't have to wait long. Three days after he had woken, she strode purposefully into his room, dressed in her usual dark business suit, her high heels clicking impatiently on the floor with her short strides. He was sitting up in bed, surrounded by pillows.

'Good to see you up and around Michael' she said brightly. 'You're looking much better'

He nodded, but said nothing.

'The doctor says you are recovering well' she said, picking up his notes and glancing down at them. 'Are you ready to get to work?'

'That depends on what it is you want me to work on' Michael said slowly.

'I told you' she replied thinly. 'You will be continuing your mother's work. We'll be flying you out to Madagascar tomorrow morning.'

His brain whirled. Tomorrow morning. That would be his chance to escape then.

'Please don't entertain any thoughts about escaping and running off into the sunset, Michael' Lisa said as though she had read his mind. 'We have a deal. We need you. Sara thinks you are dead. It will be better for her if she continues to think that. And we have some friends in Panama that are keeping a close eye on her and Lincoln.'

She took two photos from her purse and placed them on the bed next to him.

'We wouldn't want anything to happen to them now, after everything they've been through, would we?' she smiled at him.

'I thought you said you were different' Michael turned away in disgust, but he couldn't keep his eyes away from the glossy images on the bed. Sara, looking drawn and pale, was stepping off a boat. Sunshine and Spanish signs in the background. Lincoln, carrying two suitcases was just in focus behind her. His eyes rested on Sara's belly. There was no sign of the baby she was carrying yet, there wouldn't be for some time, but he knew it was in there.

'I am different' she shot back. 'But don't think for a second that I won't use old tactics if you try and double cross me. I held up my end of the deal. I got your wife out of prison, and I had to pull in some big favours to get you out of there too. So you will hold up your end of the deal. Because the technology your mother was working on can be used to save millions of lives. And that's worth more than two any day.'

Michael stared at her, his brow furrowed.

'Just let me let her know I'm alive' he said, trying to keep his voice even.

'And have her and your brother racing around with the rest of your rag tag band like rescue rangers?' she smiled icily. 'I don't think so. We don't need complications like that any more.'

Michael sighed.

'What is it you want me to do?' he asked wearily.

Lisa laid the folder she had showed him once before on the bed.

'This folder contains your mother's original notes and data from her work in Madagascar.' She said. 'I need you to look at it. It contains some blueprints and designs for the development of solar technology . But it's incomplete. We need you to go down there and look at it, finish the project. It could save millions of lives, Michael.'

'Or it could be used to develop weapons that will kill millions' he remarked, sourly.

'That's not our intention' Lisa said. 'The Company is evolving. And with me at the helm it will have a different direction. A better direction. But a ship of this size takes time to turn around. I just need you to help get us started.'

He stared at her, trying to gauge the sincerity of her words.

'So many people have died since you got yourself locked up' she said, returning his gaze with a softer one of her own.

Michael shifted uncomfortably in the bed and dropped his gaze. He didn't need telling this. He lived with those deaths, carried them with him, all the time. Tweener, Abruzzi, Governor Tancredi, Bellick, Whistler, Debbie – those were the ones that haunted him. They were all connected to his decision, two years ago, to free Lincoln. Their deaths were on his hands, and he knew there were many more. God only knew what damage T-Bag had done while he'd been on the loose.

'Wouldn't it be good to be involved in saving some lives for a change?'

He stared at the photos in his hands, tears springing into his eyes.

'I tell you what' Lisa said, standing abruptly. 'I'll sweeten the deal further for you.'

She crossed the room and took out a laptop from the bag on the stand by the door. She flipped it open and tapped a few keys on the keyboard, then turned the laptop around to face him.

'What's this?' Michael asked, warily.

'Security camera footage from the warehouse the day your mother was killed' Lisa said, in a voice that said she was holding a trump card.

Michael stared at the grainy footage. It was footage from a camera angle he hadn't known existed. Sara had been arrested based on footage from supposedly the one and only camera in the place. The camera looked down on his mother from behind. Over her shoulder he could see himself holding a gun on his mother. His lips moved, but there was no sound. He didn't need it – he knew he was shouting at his mother to drop her gun. On screen, his arm tensed, he had tried to fire his gun, but nothing happened. His mother's arm raised and she trained her gun on him. Her lips moved silently; he remembered her words, 'you'll die a Burrows!'

Sara stepped into view, behind his mother. She shot her almost instantly, the movement of the gun and the smoke thrown off the only evidence on the silent film. Christina's gun went off as she collapsed, and on screen Michael dropped to his knees. Lisa pressed pause.

Michael stared at the freeze-frame of Sara staring at the body on the ground, her expression one of shock. This film showed clearly that Sara had been acting in defence of him; that his mother was about to shoot him. _But only after he had attempted to shoot her to get Scylla back._

'As soon as you're in Madagascar, I will see to it this video is released to the authorities' Lisa said, snapping the laptop shut. 'It shows Sara clearly acting to defend you. In the right hands… it will free her from the charges against her. She will not have to live as a fugitive.'

Michael gritted his teeth. 'Why hasn't anyone seen this before?' he asked, despair and anger clear in his voice. Reflecting on this objectively, from the safety and relative calm of his hospital bed, Michael put a few pieces of the puzzle together swiftly. Kellerman had exonerated all of them. Sara should never have been arrested in the first place. But she had. And it was because of him. Because of his determination not to let his mother leave with the fruits of her work. And because the Company wanted something from him now. 'You had her arrested, didn't you? Just so that you could get to me?'

'We need you Michael' Lisa replied, simply. 'I need you. I want to put right a lot of my father's wrongs. I just needed some …leverage.'

'Yeah well, you're certainly getting the hang of the way things are done. You sound just like your father' Michael said, fighting to keep his voice level and pulling at his restraints. 'He used people as leverage too, without any concern about what that did to them'

'Don't be naïve' she said, pushing the folder towards him slightly before turning to leave. 'Sara is fine. I just needed to motivate you properly'

Michael exhaled in frustration and leaned back on the pillow, turning his head away from her and the file as she stood in the doorway.

'The data and the design specifications are in this file, give you a chance to read up on it before you get there.' She walked over to the doorway, opened the door and paused for a moment before she turned back to him. 'Be the change, Michael' she said softly.

The door closed behind her. The lock clicked into place. He was a prisoner once more.

_Gretchen_

Gretchen yawned and rolled the window down all the way to let the cool night air in, hoping it would keep her awake and alert for a couple more hours at least. She leaned her arm onto the open window frame and ran a hand through her hair and rubbed her eyes. She had been driving all day again today and her body was stiff and sore. She was wearing the ill-fitting clothes she had managed to steal from someone's back yard in Miami four days ago, she could smell her own body odour and her hair was so greasy her scalp itched. Still, she was about to cross hit the Nevada/California State Line. She could make it to her sister's house in about another four or five hours tops.

She had stopped a couple of times to call Rita's house, but had only managed to get voicemail every time. The last time, her frustration and fear had gotten the better of her and she had banged the phone down so hard in its cradle, everyone in the truck stop diner had turned to look at her. Totally the last thing she needed. She hadn't tried again since. Instead, she had driven almost constantly, keeping to the speed limits, stopping only for quick naps and bathroom breaks, with anxiety gnawing at her the whole way, the adrenaline from stress and worry helping her to stay awake and preventing her from sleeping very long when she did stop.

She yawned again and felt her eyes closing involuntarily. She shook her head and slapped herself on the cheeks. It was no good. She was never going to make it to LA without another rest break. She had passed a sign about 3 miles back for a Rest Area, she was going to have to pull over and sleep. She pushed thoughts of what was waiting for her in LA out of her mind and entered the filter lane for the Rest Area. Pulling over in a dark corner away from the bathroom buildings, she rolled up her prison jumpsuit and leaned her head up against the window and gave into the tiredness that plagued her whole body.

A loud rap on the window, close to her face, woke her what seemed like minutes later. A light shone in on her face and she screwed her eyes up and put her hand up to her face to shield the glare. What now? Her heart in her mouth, she squinted out past the glare of the torch to try and make out who was holding it. She couldn't make out any details, but she the reflected light hit something shiny on his belt – a badge. Shit! Police. The last thing she needed.

'Everything ok, Ma'am?' came a voice.

'Uh, yeah, fine' she said, stretching theatrically and moving the prison jumpsuit down out of sight. She rolled the window down a little and now she could see the beige trousers and shirt. State Trooper. 'Was just starting to feel a little sleepy driving.'

He bent down and put his face level with the cracked window, peering into the car and then looking at her. She smiled tiredly at him, hoping fervently the gun she had stashed under the seat had not slid into view.

'Where you headed?' the Trooper asked.

'San Diego' she lied.

'Oh, yeah? Beautiful city.' He flashed his torch around the interior of the car once more.

She nodded her agreement.

'Where have you driven from?'

Gretchen had anticipated this question.

'From Phoenix' she lied smoothly. 'My family are back there, my Mom has been sick, so I've been visiting. Just eager to get home now.'

'Arizona, huh? That's a long drive on your own' he remarked.

'Yeah' she agreed, wondering idly if she could reach the gun under the seat before he could unholster his gun. She bet she could. It might come down to that if he didn't stop asking all these pointless questions.

'Well, have a good night' he said, snapping his torch off. 'feel free to rest as long as you need before you start driving again. But I'd recommend you pull over there where the trucks are, it's lit better and you'd be safer.'

'Thanks officer' she said, smiling.

'Drive safe' he said and he walked away.

She exhaled slowly. That had been close. Too close. She had to get to LA.


	8. Chapter 8

_Sara_

She was dreaming. She knew she was dreaming because Michael was there. He stood at a window, half turned so that she could make out his beautiful face in profile. He had been looking out of the window, and beyond the glass she could see the beach and the ocean, gently lapping at the sand. A boat was close to the sand and bobbed gently up and down. He turned and gave her his dazzling smile. The one that always made her heart jump and her stomach tighten.

'One day' he said to her, gesturing out of the window towards the boat.

She stood staring at him, her eyes bright with tears and a lump in her throat. She swallowed hard so she could get her words out. 'One day' she nodded hopefully, even though she knew that day was never coming now.

He crossed the room and took her in his arms. She leaned into him and smelled his wonderful scent. He put his hands on her face tenderly and raised her face to look at him. She looked into his eyes. Those beautiful eyes, they were filled with so much emotion and tenderness. His thumb caressed her cheek and he looked puzzled to find tears there.

Blood was trickling from his nose, and her tears flowed faster. He pulled away from her and turned to look out of the window again.

'Michael' she cried desperately as he turned away. 'Michael, don't go! Please. Don't leave me'

She reached for him but her hands couldn't quite reach him. The blood was flowing faster from his nose, and he was fading right before her eyes.

'Michael!' she shouted, reaching desperately for him.

She sat up in the bed in the hotel in Panama, her heart pounding, the sheets twisted around her. Michael was gone and now the only thing caressing her cheeks were her own tears. She put her hands on her belly, clutching the closest thing she had to him, her pain so visceral and raw it made her double over. She took a ragged breath and then gave in to the grief that overwhelmed her, her sobs heaving her chest uncontrollably. It was like losing him all over again.

_Michael_

Roar, boom, sshhhhh. Roar, boom, sshhh.

Through the drug induced haze, before he could open his eyes, Michael knew he was near the ocean. Bright light pierced through his closed eyelids, and he opened them just a tiny bit, squinting and shielding his eyes with one hand. He had a sense he was not alone right before he felt movement on the bed next to him. He could make out a dark shape leaning over him, intense bright light behind it, and he scrambled backwards on the hard bed on which he way lying, only to hit the wall behind him.

'Take it easy, my friend' came the voice, a lilting African voice, smooth like velvet. 'You've had a long journey. And, from the looks of it, you were in the wars for a while before that too.'

The way he said 'wars' rhymed with 'bars', Michael thought. Ironic.

'Where am I?' It hurt to open his eyes, and he squeezed them shut, before chancing a tiny squint again.

There was no reply. The man took a breath in as though considering a response, but he must have decided against it.

Michael rolled onto his side and tested his eyes again. It hurt, but not as much this time. Shielding his eyes with his hand, he squinted once more in the direction of the voice.

A man, dark skinned with curly, greying hair was sitting on the bed next to him, examining his bandages. He was wearing a garish Hawaiian shirt, mismatched board shorts and flip flops. The first three buttons on his shirt were unfastened, revealing a mat of thick dark chest hair shot with grey.

'Who are you?'

'I am Reggie. It's good to meet you, Michael' The man said, smiling and holding out his hand. Michael just looked at it. The man's smile revealed a lack of recent dental care, there were more gaps than teeth.

'Where the hell are we Reggie?' Michael pushed himself up slowly onto his elbows, and looked around. The room they were in was bare, with high concrete walls and one door. There were only two windows, both on the same wall, framed with old wooden frames with paint that was curling up in places. Through the open blinds and dusty glass he could see the beach and the ocean, they were on the ground floor.

'We are at the research centre in Madagascar' Reggie said, matter of factly, putting his hand down.

'What am I doing here?' Michael frowned and tried to sit up on the hard bed. His eyes rested on the door…it was open and he could see a small triangle of soft white sand with blades of grass poking through.

'I think they thought you would be able to think clearer here' he said. 'Not as many distractions, things to filter out….'

His voice trailed away as Michael fixed him with a sharp glare.

'What would you know about that?' he frowned. 'Who are you?'

'I worked here with your mother for many years' he said. 'She had the same….gifts you do'

You knew my mother?' Michael sat back and looked at Reggie distastefully. 'Then you work for the Company too?'

'You could say that' Reggie nodded slowly. It sounded like 'dat'. He picked up a hypodermic needle from the stand near the bed and moved to take Michael's arm. Michael snatched his arm away instinctively.

Easy, my friend' Reggie said soothingly. 'Just your medication. You know, for your -' He gestured to Michael's bandaged head and showed him the label on the vial.

'I'm not your friend' Michael said, flatly. 'And I have no idea what's in that vial. Do you?'

Reggie shrugged his shoulders and stood, replacing the needle on the night stand.

A sharp pain in his head made him wince and a wave of nausea overwhelmed him leaving him weak and dizzy. He laid his head back down on the pillow for a moment and closed his eyes. He just needed a minute, till the nausea passed.

When he woke again, it was much later. The sun was throwing orange light around the edges of the window and the shadows in the room were long. He heard movement behind him and Reggie came into view, carrying 2 cups of something steaming.

'You are awake' he said, holding a cup out. Michael looked at the cup and looked away, pushing himself up slowly on the bed.

Reggie shrugged and set the cup on the nightstand next to the bed, then retired to his bed across the room. He sat down, sipping his drink cautiously and watching Michael over the rim of his cup.

Michael swung his legs around and sat up slowly, his head swimming with the movement. He tested his feet gingerly on the floor, it felt cool on his skin. With Reggie watching him carefully, he stood shakily, unsure of his own legs. One leg buckled and he grabbed for the nightstand. Reggie reacted quickly, jumping up from his bed and holding out both his hands to steady him, but he pushed them away and turned to the door. _The door was open. _He had to see what was outside. He stepped gingerly towards it, fighting the wave of nausea that was threatening to crash through his brain. He paused as he reached the door frame and rested his head on it for a moment, feeling the cool of the wall on his forehead and regaining his balance. The fog in his brain cleared and he swallowed repeatedly. The nausea was passing.

He pushed the door open and stepped outside, checking behind the door instinctively, expecting to see armed guards. There was no one there. He took a few more cautious steps, sand between his toes, expecting someone to appear from the side of the building, but it seemed like there was no one here. He glanced back. Reggie was standing in the doorway, a bemused and concerned look on his face.

'We're here alone?' he asked, doubtfully.

'There are others…' he gestured to a larger building behind the one they had just come from. 'But it's getting late. Maybe we will meet them tomorrow.'

Michael turned back to the ocean and walked slowly down towards the shore line, feeling sweat bead on his forehead as he walked. The sun was dipping into the ocean off to his right, but the evening was balmy. He squinted and covered his eyes against the glare so that he could look around. Waves rolled and crashed on the rocky outcrops, but the small cove in which they were standing was relatively calm, and the waves chattered in and out rhythmically.

Turning from the shore line, he could get a better view of the whole research facility. It was a grey and featureless building; it looked like a child had stacked rectangular grey boxes on top of one another. It was built into the side of a steep cliff that spanned the bay in which he was standing and arced into the next bay, the cliff side jutting out into the ocean. The hut he and Reggie had just come from was a single storey rectangular building with a low pitched thatched roof and rectangular, unadorned windows.

He could see now where the booming waves were coming from, they were crashing up against the yawning expanse of cliff, the foot of which was littered with a pile of jagged, shiny rocks, that were completely submerged every few seconds as a huge wave rolled in. The wave turned to spray and white foam, then receded as the jagged rocks bit through once more.

On the other side, the bay narrowed and a small jetty ran a few feet into the ocean before collapsing into the waves.

'How did I get here?' Michael scanned the bay. It was surrounded on all sides by the cliff face. The sun was dipping into the ocean off to his right and a glance at his watch told him it was 6.30pm. Open ocean dead ahead. They were on the south of whatever island this was.

Reggie shrugged his shoulders.

'Helicopter probably' he said, noncommittally. 'Probably landed up there somewhere.' He gestured vaguely to the top of the cliff face.

'And how did I get down here?' Michael pressed further, scanning the cliff side for signs of machinery. 'Through that building?'

'I don't know'

'How can you be the only person here, but not know how I got here?'

'When you arrived, I was working.' He gestured to the granite windowless walls. 'In there. I left in the morning, you weren't here. I come back, you're laying in the bed, asleep. I don't know how you got here, my friend.'

'I told you before, I'm not your friend'

Reggie shrugged amiably.

'Michael, you've been brought here to do a job. We will need to work together. We may not be friends, but I am not your enemy. I am being held here too.'

Michael looked at him warily. 'How long have you been here?'

'A while now' Reggie said vaguely, turning to gaze out across the ocean. 'Not all prisons have bars my - Michael' he said.

Michael looked around him once more. He was trapped here, there was no question. Nausea was building within him once more and he felt his legs weaken and wobble. The sky behind Reggie seemed far too bright, then it dimmed and his head spun. He tried to concentrate on his breathing, but his chest felt tight and inhaling felt like encouraging his body to vomit. He collapsed into the sand as everything went dark around him.

'You need your medicine Michael' Reggie's voice seemed to come from far off in the distance.

Michael laid his head on the cool sand and kept his eyes closed. For a few minutes all he could hear was the regular boom of the waves on the rocks, punctuated by the babbling of the gentle waves in the bay near his feet. It was soothing. He tried to keep his breathing in time with the waves.

Reggie reappeared a few minutes later, kneeling down in the soft sand beside him.

'Michael?' he said.

Michael rolled onto his back, putting his arm across his eyes to shield them from the sun.

'Michael, you have to let me give you this' Reggie said, brandishing the vial and the hypodermic from the hut and taking Michael's arm.

'No!' Michael pulled his arm away forcefully.

'It will help with the nausea' Reggie said. 'And it's a tumour suppressant. It's the medicine they sent with you. You should let me give it to you.'

Michael rolled onto his side and looked out across the bay.

'You're not putting that in me' he said, flatly. The nausea had passed and he sat up slowly.

'Michael, I don't think the Company would have operated on your tumour, given you the very best in neurological care, flown you to this island and left you with me if they were just going to inject you with something that would kill you.' Reggie shrugged his shoulders and looked at Michael with a sceptical look on his face. 'That doesn't make sense does it?'

Michael said nothing. Reggie shrugged his shoulders again and put the vial and syringe back into his pocket. He held a hand out to Michael and gestured for him to get up off the sand.

Michael looked at it.

'I can't be here' he said, desperately, looking past Reggie across the ocean. 'Not after everything I've gone through. This can't be how it ends' He picked up pebbles from the sand and tossed them half-heartedly at the water.

Reggie put his hand back down by his side and looked around. He sat down on the sand beside Michael. The two of them sat there, watching the waves, lost in their own thoughts, as the sun dipped further into the water.

'So, what happens now?' Michael asked, eventually.

'When you are strong enough, you go to work with me' Reggie gestured vaguely over his shoulder.

'Work' Michael repeated, hollowly. He shook his head. All of this, just so that he would work for them.

'I understand how you feel Michael' he said softly. 'But I am glad you're here. I've been working alone for months now, since your mother left. You're the first person I've seen apart from the security in ages.'

'How can you possibly understand how I feel?' Michael muttered, thinking of Sara and the baby.

Reggie held up his hands agreeably.

'How did my mother get to leave?'

'They needed her to sell the science, to go to meet with the money people' Reggie picked up pebbles as he spoke and threw them into the nearby waves. He shrugged. 'She was always here out of choice anyway.'

The last words were like a kick in the guts, even now, after everything. She had chosen to be here. Michael exhaled and shook his head slowly.

'Have you ever left?'

'A couple of times' he nodded, slowly. 'We go to the factory on the mainland' He gestured vaguely out to sea.

'How?'

'Boat last time' he said, frowning at Michael's line of questions. 'It came for me. Helicopter one time.'

Michael sensed the man's reluctance with this line of questioning and decided to change tack.

'You have family on the mainland?'

'Yes' Reggie smiled, rooting in his pockets and withdrawing two photographs that had been folded and unfolded so many times, they were detaching along the crease lines. He unfolded them gently, careful not to cause any more tearing. He held it out in the palm of his hand. 'My wife and two little girls' he said proudly.

Michael looked at the photos. A woman, younger than Reggie, with braided hair and a headdress smiled out from the faded and well-worn photo. Two girls, both with large brown eyes and open smiles perched on her lap. The girls were looking off camera and laughing, something funny that the camera couldn't see.

'They're beautiful' Michael said.

'We have a job to finish here Michael' he said. 'Then maybe we can both see our families again, yes?

He smiled, showing the gaps in his teeth.

'I'm not working for the Company' Michael said, flatly. 'They can keep me here as long as they like, but I'm not going to do what they want.'

A look of fear flitted across Reggie's face.

'But you must' he said, frowning.

'No' said Michael.

'Michael – your family'

'What about my family?'

'They are not safe unless you are cooperating.'

Michael stared out to sea.

'They're not safe anywhere' he said, flatly. 'Not with me here.'

Reggie stood up suddenly, as though he was done with this conversation.

'Come on, you need to rest' he extended his hand once more.

This time, Michael took it, his legs wobbling shaking as he did. The beach seemed to tilt a little and he leaned against the older man for a moment, taking some deep breaths.

'You need your medicine' Reggie said again.

Michael said nothing. His balance returned, he let go of Reggie and he set off up across the small patch of sand towards the hut.

The effort of walking the dozen steps took what was left of his strength, and once inside the cool of the room, he collapsed back onto the bed and let the darkness take over again.


	9. Chapter 9

When he woke, the room was dimly lit, with light now coming in from the other side of the blinds, shards of light piercing through the tattered edges. There was a full on morning chorus of bird calls outside. He glanced down at his watch – 4.45 am.

He looked around. Reggie's cot was empty, the blankets already straight and smooth. He turned to the kitchen area behind him. Reggie sat on a stool at the breakfast bar, drinking from a mug and studying what looked like architectural drawings. The squeaking of the bed springs as Michael sat up made him turn.

'Good morning' he nodded, draining his mug and setting it on the counter. 'Would you like some tea?'

Michael's head pounded and he rubbed his face and his head with his hands.

'Yeah' he said.

Reggie got up and walked into the kitchen. He took a second mug from a cupboard above the stove and put a tea bag into it. He whistled to himself softly as he lifted a kettle from the stove and filled it with water from a tap. He picked up some matches and struck one to light the gas stove.

'What day is it Reggie?' Michael asked.

Reggie consulted his watch briefly. 'Thursday' he said.

'Thursday?' Michael frowned. '15th?'

'22nd' Reggie corrected, removing the kettle as it began to whistle.

22nd! It had been two whole weeks! The date struck him like a blow to the stomach and suddenly his head didn't hurt so much anymore. He put his head in his hands and pictured Sara, in Panama with Lincoln. He wondered where she was, what she was doing, if the baby was ok. Tears of frustration pricked at the corners of his eyes. The irony of the situation. It was almost a year since he'd got himself thrown inside Fox River, where Lincoln was being held and Sara worked. Now he was being held captive and Sara and Lincoln were free. He could live with that if he didn't know that Sara would be miserable now, thinking he was dead. If he hadn't ruined her entire life, left her pregnant and a fugitive in a strange country with no medical license.

Reggie swirled the tea bag and carried the steaming mug over to him. He held it out along with two round pills. Michael took the tea and looked at the tablets.

'They're just painkillers' Reggie said, picking up the box from the side and showing it to him. 'For the headache'

Michael took the box from Reggie, ignoring the pills in his outstretched hand. He took the blister pack from inside and examined it carefully for evidence of tampering.

'Michael' he said, gently. 'You need to take your medicine.'

Michael shook his head stubbornly. After being operated on, held prisoner in a hospital god knows where and then drugged enough to not even remember a transatlantic flight, he wasn't about to take any medicine. He peered into his tea, and decided he was going to have to eat and drink. He took a sip. It was hot and it burned the inside of his mouth, but it tasted good. He drank it eagerly, ignoring the scalding feeling in his throat.

'We need to start work as soon as you are ready' Reggie said, pulling a chair out from underneath the table by the window. He set the chair opposite Michael and sat down. 'Did they give you any details before you got here?'

Michael nodded slowly.

'I've seen the plans' he muttered. 'Concentration of solar energy, right?'

'More than plans, Michael.' Reggie sucked the gap in his teeth. 'We are well into construction'

Michael looked up.

'Really?'

'Yes, we started building last month'

Michael stood slowly and walked over to the counter where the plans were laid out. They were the same plans Lisa had given him in the hospital over a week ago. A huge array of mirrors, the placement of which was designed to concentrate the reflected solar beams, the focus it to a particular point where it would heat water to the point that it would generate electricity.

'So this really is about renewable energy?' he asked, sceptically.

'Yes' Reggie frowned, puzzled. 'What did you think it was about?'

'Weapons' Michael said, shortly. He studied the drawing carefully, his interest piqued despite himself. The details in the lines of the architectural drawings jumped out at him, filling him with a sensation of familiarity and comfort. He could see how it was all going to fit together.

'No' Reggie shook his head. 'We've been working on this installation for a while. If we perfect it here, then we can duplicate on the mainland.'

Michael's eyebrows knitted together. He was still skeptical.

'Who is we?' he asked, suddenly.

'We have some help in the main building' Reggie went on. 'We'll meet them later.'

'How far have you got?'

'Well, we've got the main struts built, and the supports.' Reggie stood next to him and pointed to the plans. 'The mirrors are still being ground. We've not placed anything permanent yet. We – we wanted to wait for you. When you are strong enough, we will get started.'

Michael stared at the plans, following the lines, picking out intricate details. It was strangely comforting.

He took a breath and looked up at Reggie.

'Show me' he said.


	10. Chapter 10

He followed as Reggie walked over to the facility. He stopped at a large grey door, with a mechanism that looked like an air lock on it. There was a panel on the wall to the right and Reggie punched in some numbers and stood back, looking up towards a security camera set in the wall above them.

'Smile for the camera, Michael' he said.

Michael scowled and said nothing.

The intercom clicked on.

'Come on up Reggie' a tinny voice instructed, and there was the sound of a lock disengaging.

Reggie spun the 3 point wheel on the front of the door and opened the huge door. They stepped inside and he pulled the door closed with a grunt. Ahead of them was a stairwell that went down as well as up.

'Come on' Reggie was already on the third step, looking back expectantly.

'What's down?' Michael asked.

'Machine room' Reggie said. 'Fuse boxes, maybe some laundry, I don't know' he shrugged and turned back to the steps and began climbing.

Michael leaned over the stairwell and looked down. There was nothing but inky darkness below, he couldn't make out anything. He turned and followed Reggie, taking the stairs slowly.

After three flights, he had to stop and take a breather. He was feeling faint and dizzy and put his hand on the rail to steady himself as his head swam and his vision blurred.

Reggie came back down the steps and looked at him worriedly.

'No marathons for you anytime soon, eh?' he smiled toothlessly and clapped Michael on the back. 'Come on, we are nearly there.'

Michael smiled humourlessly and gestured that he was ready to carry on.

One more flight up and they came to another huge wheel locked door with a security pad. Michael watched as Reggie punched in the numbers and stored the number sequence for potential future use.

Once through the security door, they were standing in what seemed like a cage.

The door was marked 'Research' and had no security pad. Reggie peered through the glass and nodded as he spotted a young woman with a blond ponytail and a lab coat in the room. He opened the door and she barely glanced up as they entered.

'Hey Abbie' he said.

'Hey Reggie, how are you doing?' she was leaning on the desk writing on an A4 pad. She was a t shirt and shorts underneath her lab coat. Expensive glasses framed her eyes and she was poking a calculator with a pencil and frowning. Michael looked around the room. It was an extremely well equipped lab, with what looked like

'I'm good Abbie, brought someone to meet you.'

At this, she stopped and looked up. Her mouth dropped open a little as she spotted Michael behind Reggie.

'Michael, this is Abbie Truman, Abbie – Michael Scofield'

'Michael Scofield?' she smiled girlishly at him, revealing a gap in her teeth. She stepped forward and put out a hand. He could see a dusting of freckles across her nose. 'I've heard a lot about you. It's good to meet you.'

Michael looked at her then extended his hand cautiously.

'What have you heard?'

'Oh, mostly just what I saw on the news. The manhunt for you was big news a couple of years ago.' She blushed as she realised what she'd said. 'And what Reggie told me' she added. She put out her hand. 'I'm really looking forward to working with you. I mean – we all are.' She blushed again and her eyes dropped to the floor.

Michael looked puzzled and glanced at Reggie as he took her hand. Reggie raised his hands and shook his head.

'Abbie is a research Chemist' Reggie said. 'She's doing something with Silicon and lithographs that I don't pretend to understand.'

Abbie smiled self-consciously and turned away, bumping into the desk as she did. She let out a grunt of pain and dropped the folder she was carrying. Sheets of A4 paper with copious neat notes on them scattered all over the floor.

'Here, let me get this for you-' Michael said, stooped to pick up a couple of sheets for her.

'Oh, no, that's ok, I can do it' Abbie bent down and scrabbled for her papers.

Michael looked at one of the sheets he was holding.

'You're making two sided cells?' he said, looking at the drawing intently. The lines jumped out at him.

'Y-yes' she said, taking the drawing from him. 'Solar chips that will absorb energy on both sides, so they don't lose efficiency as the sun moves.'

Michael nodded.

'You're managing to print on both sides?' he asked

'Mm-hmm' she said. Her hand brushed up against his as she collected the rest of her papers and she jumped as though she had been shocked. 'With a nanocoating to stop them getting dusty…' her voice trailed off.

He looked up from the drawings. She was rubbing her hand and standing awkwardly, as though she didn't know where to put herself. She couldn't have been any older than 25.

'That's pretty impressive' he said, looking at her intently. 'You doing this by yourself?'

She blushed again and shrugged her shoulders modestly.

'Erm, mostly' She smiled, pushing her glasses back up her nose and tucking an imaginary stray piece of hair back behind her ear. 'I mean, I get a little help now and again, but I was hoping with your engineering background, that you might be able to help out?'

Michael looked at her.

'I'm not sure how long I'll be here' he said, finally, avoiding Reggie's gaze. 'Or what I'll be doing while I am here. But, I am intrigued.'

Abbie glanced over at Reggie.

'Well, thanks Abbie' Reggie said, too brightly. 'We better get going, I need to show Michael the rest of the compound. We're going topside to see the site.'

Abbie looked back at Michael. He was still looking at her, and she shifted uncomfortably under his gaze.

'Michael' Reggie said.

Michael nodded.

'It was good to meet you' he said to Abbie, turning away.

He followed Reggie out of the door and they were back in the corridor.

'What's her story?' Michael gestured back towards the lab. 'Why is she here?'

Reggie shook his head.

'She's been here about a year' he said, simply. 'Don't know much about her. When she came, she was very sad.'

He shrugged and gestured towards an elevator.

'Come, we'll head up to the site' he said.

Michael followed him eagerly.


	11. Chapter 11

The elevator ride seemed to take forever. Michael tapped impatiently and cast frequent glances over at Reggie, who leaned nonchalantly against the side of the elevator, sucking on the gap between his teeth. When they finally came to a halt, Michael stepped forward eagerly, willing the doors to open faster. He stepped out into lush green landscape. The humidity was higher up here and sweat immediately began to bead on his forehead. He looked around. Off to his right the greenery stretched out, turning into thick trees at the foot of a mountain range in the distance. A thin layer of mist hung around the treetops. To the left was the cliff edge that he knew would overlook the bay they had just come from. The ocean was flat and empty and sparkled in the morning sun.

The sound of a gun being cocked close by made him jump and he whirled around. A man in combats was holding a machine gun pointed vaguely in their direction and Michael raised his hands instantly.

'Easy, soldier' Reggie said, stepping out of the elevator behind Michael.

'Reggie' the soldier was grudging, as though he had been hoping for trouble.

'Just visitin' the site' Reggie said.

The soldier nodded and disengaged the weapon somewhat reluctantly.

Michael glanced over at Reggie, who gestured to go ahead. Michael dropped his hands, glared at the soldier and stepped forward. He could see the site. There were two towers under construction, both surrounded by scaffolding. Reggie had been telling the truth – construction was well under way. He frowned. What did they need him for? He could see people working at the site, some of them on the supporting struts and scaffolding. He found himself eager to get over there and meet them. Medical staff and Lisa aside, the only person he'd had normal contact with in the last two weeks was Reggie.

As they got closer, though, his hopes of normal conversation and finding allies died as he noticed the security patrol around the site. There were more soldiers wearing combats and carrying semi-automatic weapons, and those working on site had combats and vests on too. One of the security patrol turned as they approached. A cigarette dangled from his mouth and he slung his gun over his shoulder and watched them closely.

'Afternoon, Cooper' Reggie said, coolly. 'This is Michael. Michael, Greg Cooper. He's in charge of security.'

Michael nodded but did not extend his hand. Neither did Cooper.

'Schofield, huh?' Cooper said, drawing himself up to full height. 'Hear you're pretty hot shit at breaking out of prisons.'

Michael looked at him but said nothing.

'Let's get one thing straight' Cooper said, stepping forward so that he was square with Michael. 'I don't work for the government, and I don't work for Corrections. I don't believe in rehabilitation, benefit of the doubt or giving people second chances. I believe in playing by the rules and shoot first, ask questions later.' He leaned in a little closer to Michael. 'You understand?' he sneered.

'Got it' Michael said, levelly, meeting his gaze and stifling the urge to comment further.

'We're going to go and look at the site' Reggie interjected.

The two men continued staring at each other for a few seconds before Cooper stepped back to allow them to pass. His eyes remain fixed on Michael as the two of them continued towards the scaffolding.

'So he's the asshole, huh?' Michael muttered as they walked through the long grass.

Reggie cast a glance over his shoulder before responding.

'Mm-hmm' he murmured, softly. 'Fortunately, we don't see a lot of him'

Michael turned, walking backwards for a few steps as he looked at Cooper. He was still watching them. Michael shook his head and turned back around. He was sick of having jerks like Cooper in his life.

He followed Reggie to the first set of scaffolding.

Reggie stopped just short of the scaffolding and looked up, surveying the whole site.

Michael stopped next to him and took it all in too. The main supports were already built and he could see where the mirrors would go.

'I don't understand' Michael said, softly, a frown on his face.

Reggie looked at him quizzically.

'It's almost done' Michael gestured to the building in front of them. 'What do you need me for?'

Reggie stared at him as though this question had never occurred to him. Then he shrugged, turned and ducked under the scaffolding. Michael stared after him for a moment, then followed.

Lisa

Lisa sat in her office, door closed, phone switched off and blinds drawn. All around her was calm and quiet, but inside was a storm of doubt, insecurity and fear. She sat very still, her hands folded in her lap and closed her eyes, trying to focus on her breathing and quell the rising panic.

A knock at the door made her jump.

Goddamm it! The sign said clearly 'Do not disturb'!

'What?!' she snapped.

Robbie, her PA poked his head around the door nervously.

'They're waiting for you, Mrs Tabak' he said.

'Fine, I'll be there in a minute', she barked, and he disappeared meekly.

She stood, smoothing the wrinkles in her business suit with clammy hands. She could put it off no longer. She raised her chin and strode purposefully out of her office, down the hall and to the office that her father had once spent most of his waking hours in. As she opened the door, the familiar smell of his cologne and cigars wafted over her, and the familiar sense of intimidation and apprehension that she had experienced since being a little girl returned. She had to stop herself from turning and running out.

Robbie appeared at her side.

'Would you like a coffee?' he asked.

She shook her head.

'No, thank you.'

She came to the door to the board room and paused.

'Robbie?' she said, turning round.

'Yes, Mrs Tabak?'

'Get some interior designers in this office this afternoon. I want everything stripped out and replaced.' She paused, looking at her father's antique mahogany desk and his liquor cabinet. He'd cared more about his bottles of scotch than he had about his family. 'And I mean everything'

'Yes, Mrs Tabak' he pulled out his tablet and frowned at the diary. 'You're not free to meet with them until next week though.'

'You do it' she said, running a hand over her hair and down over her blouse once more.

Robbie looked startled.

'Don't you want to decide on colours, and furniture?'

'No' she said, turning to the door and taking a breath. 'Just get it done.'

She grasped the door handle and opened the door. The hubbub on the other side quietened as she strode in and took her place at the head of the boardroom table. They were all here. All her father's friends…. and enemies.

'Gentlemen' she said, ignoring the constriction in her throat. 'Welcome. I'm glad to see so many of you here.'

'Lisa, we all need to know just what the hell is going on.' Bruce was the first to get up and say something. She had known he would be.

There was a collective murmur of agreement around the table.

'What is happening with your father?'

Lisa held her hand up to stop the barrage of questions and she sat down.

'Genlemen' she began. 'I know that you are all used to working with my father, and that many of you have worked with him for many years. However, you all know that recently, his judgement has not been the best, and that his behaviour has become increasingly risky.'

There were nods of reluctant agreement and Lisa felt encouraged.

'As you know, he was arrested in Miami a couple of weeks ago, when he allowed his obsession with Michael Scofield and Scylla to get out of hand. '

'We've heard that the government has got its hands on Scylla.' It was Bruce again. 'Is that true?'

Lisa looked around. This was the moment of truth, and she had no idea how they would react when she told them this. It was a gamble. A few of them had sat forward, eagerly awaiting her response. She nodded once.

'Yes, Scofield handed over Scylla.'

There was uproar around the table.

She raised a hand to get silence.

'Wait' she said. 'All is not lost.'

'Lisa, your father is in jail and we have lost all of the research we have been conducting and investing in for the last ten years. I'd say that's the very definition of lost.'

'No' she said. 'As you know, Scylla was a very primitive design. We still have all of the original research. Development will continue.'

'That's ridiculous' Alistair exploded and stood up to leave.

'Christina Scofield is dead' Bruce said. 'Who would you have work on such a project?'

'Well, some of her original research team is still in place on Madagascar' Lisa began. 'And we have recruited a new research Chemist to work on the Silicon project.'

There was grumbling around the table and Bruce got up too. Two or three of them shook their heads and began packing away their papers.

'And I have Michael Scofield' she announced.

Alistair turned back from the door.

'Michael Scofield is dead' he said slowly.

'No, he isn't.' Lisa said, her calm voice betraying the torrent of nerves inside. 'He's alive. Everyone thinks he died in the prison - his brother, the authorities, everyone. But we got him out' She looked around the room, gratified by the puzzled and impressed look on faces around her.

'Even if that were true, he won't work for us' Bruce said again.

'Wrong again, Bruce' she said, smiling. 'He is already on Madagascar. He will work for us. He already is.'

She picked up the remote and switched on the projector. The projector hummed into life and the screen behind her glowed, dimly at first, but increasing in brightness so that everyone could make out the photo of Michael and Reggie, standing in front of the partly constructed tower. Behind them, lush green foliage dominated the landscape. A second photo showed the two men holding down architectural drawings as they pored over hem. Lisa clicked the button to show a third photo, a profile shot. Michael, frowning, his brows knitted together as he determinedly studied something unseen by the camera. She silently thanked the cameraman for this shot, there couldn't have been a more perfect photo. The fact that this had been taken in the warehouse before his mother was shot was a minor detail that nobody needed to know.

The noise around the table had a much more positive feel to it now. Lisa turned the projector off and turned to face the board, her confidence growing. She caught Bruce's eye, and he bowed his head in acknowledgement, reluctant admiration on his face.

'Gentlemen' Bruce said loudly, clearing his throat. Everyone fell silent. 'I move that, in the absence of her father, Lisa Tabak fill the position of Chair of this board, pending his acquittal and return.'

There was a murmur around the table and Lisa held her breath.

'All those in favour'

Lisa had to stop herself from closing her eyes. She forced herself to look around the table, praying her face was a picture of confidence and self-assurance.

All but two of the men around the table raised their hands. Lisa made a mental note of the two non-assenters. She would deal with them later.

'How did you get Scofield?' Bruce asked.

'Everybody wants something Bruce' Lisa said. 'I just had to find what it was that he wanted. The rest was easy.'

'So, he's really working for us now?'

'Yes, Bruce' Lisa began collecting her papers and turned to switch off the projector so she wouldn't have to meet Bruce's eye. 'He really is working for us now.'


	12. Chapter 12

Michael could tell almost instantly the construction work was solid. The tower was nearly finished. He looked around, his mind placing the mirrors in the places outlined in the plans. Hundreds of mirrors, all tilted to reflect as many of the sun's heat as possible into the receivers in the top of the tower. It just didn't make any sense. Why was he here? The plans were complete. They were almost done.

Michael glanced over at Reggie. The older man was studying some plans he'd withdrawn from his pocket. He squinted at them and moved the papers back a little.

'Why don't you get some glasses?' Michael asked.

'Don't need glasses' Reggie sounded indignant. He narrowed his eyes at the drawings, then nodded as though he'd got exactly what he needed and folded them up.

Michael smiled humourlessly.

'Whatever you say' he said. 'What are we doing here, Reggie?'

'We're looking at the plans' Reggie frowned, not understanding.

'No, I mean, what are we doing here on this island' Michael said, impatiently. 'Solar power towers have been around for years. They don't need us.'

'Our job is to make it more efficient Michael' Reggie said. 'Most of these plants have been a disappointment. Not enough electricity being produced. Excuses like clouds and jet trails.' He shrugged his shoulders. 'The aim is to make this scale model efficient enough to be the electricity generation method of choice. Even when the sun doesn't shine like it does here.'

Michael frowned sceptically.

'I don't know anything about this' he said, in frustration.

'It's pretty simple' he said. 'The mirrors will go all the way around. They will reflect the sun's rays to the receivers being placed up top there.' He gestured vaguely in the direction of the top of what was, at this point, just scaffolding. 'It will heat the water and create steam, which drives the turbine.'

Michael looked at Reggie as he spoke.

'I know that….' Michael began, but his voice trailed off.

'We are trying the make the heat absorption process more efficient' Reggie continued. 'We're looked at different compounds to absorb the heat energy, ones with a higher heat capacity than water, that would act as a store of energy at night or when it's cloudy.'

Michael was finding it difficult to concentrate on what Reggie was saying. The dull throb in his head that had been building all day was reaching a crescendo, and he had to squint to keep his vision straight.

Reggie glanced over at him.

'Are you all right?' he asked, frowning at him.

'I'm fine' Michael muttered, trying to stand up. His balance tilted and he swayed suddenly, seeing stars in front of his eyes.

'Michael!' Reggie's voice sounded distant and Michael recognised the signs. He was going to pass out. He sat down abruptly and kicked his legs weakly in an attempt to push himself up against the scaffolding for support. The blackness started creeping in around the edges of his vision and there was a loud roar in his ears. He closed his eyes and tried to breathe normally.

He felt warmth on his arm and knew Reggie was next to him. He focused on his breathing, trying to quell the rising nausea. He leaned forward slightly and rested his head in his hands. The dizziness was passing and he felt the tunnel vision sensation receding and he sat back and opened his eyes slowly. Reggie was staring at him, concern all over his face. He opened his mouth to say something but Michael held up his hand.

'I know, I know' Michael said, smiling despite the pain in his head. 'I need my medicine.'

'Michael, this isn't a joke' Reggie said, crossly. 'Without that medicine, you will die. Simple as that. I do not think you want to die. Do you?'

He sat back on his haunches and raised his hands in frustration.

'No, Reggie, I don't want to die' Michael said. 'But would you trust a man you'd never met before to inject you with an experimental drug provided by a company that has drugged and kidnapped you and is currently holding you hostage by threatening to kill your pregnant wife?'

Reggie stared at him.

'No, I guess when you put it like that, I would not' he admitted. Michael raised his hands in a 'There you go' gesture.

'However' Reggie continued. 'I trust that the Company want you alive and working more than they want you dead right now. In fact, I'm so sure of that, I'm willing to inject the drug myself first. That way, you can see if there are any negative effects.'

'I don't want you to do that' Michael said, getting up slowly.

'Well, I want to do it.' Reggie said, an air of finality to his words. 'As soon as we get back to the Palace tonight, I will take your medicine. Someone has to. We're getting to a point where it won't matter if it's poisonous or not, Michael, you're going to die either way.'

He turned and walked away, shaking his head. Michael rubbed his eyes. The pain in his head was receding slightly, but the fogginess was there. He felt a familiar trickle and raised his fingers to his nose. He knew they would be covered in blood before he looked down. He wiped his fingers hastily and used his sleeve to wipe the rest away. Reggie was right. Sooner or later, he was going to have to take the drugs.


	13. Chapter 13

_Sara_

She had dreamed of him again. She had awoken, sweat soaked sheets wrapped around her and her pillow cold with tears. She looked at the clock – 10.45pm. She'd only been in bed half an hour. It had been three weeks since she'd arrived in Panama and not a single one had gone by yet without dreaming of him. She was, in a masochistic way, glad. It helped her feel as though he was still close. During waking hours it upset her to realise that the memory of his face was already starting to fade. His face was blurry when she thought of him, his features not as sharp. In her dream though, it was though he was standing in front of her again. She could see him clearly. It was worth the disturbed sleep and the tears just to be able to remember him properly. She was grateful for that.

Sleep would not come back to her now, she knew that. She got up and wrapped a robe around her, her hand coming to rest on the soft swell of her belly as she tied the sash. She padded softly into the kitchen, turned on the lamp and put some water on the stove to make some camomile tea. The blinds were open in the kitchen and she stared out into the inky blackness as the sounds of the kettle filled the room.

A noise on the porch startled her. Her heart skipped and her stomach clenched.

'Sara, it's me, Linc' came the familiar deep voice. She breathed a sigh of relief and opened the door.

'Lincoln, what on earth are you doing –' she stopped short as she saw that Lincoln was not on his own. Paul Kellerman stood behind him. Sara stood in the doorway, a thousand emotions flitting through her mind. Her legs suddenly felt weak and she gripped the door handle. Suddenly she was back in the seedy motel room, face down in the bath tub, screaming into a tub full of water…reaching for the plug, her lungs burning, her nose full of water. She took a gasp of air into her lungs.

Lincoln stepped forward, and she moved aside to let him in.

'We need to talk Sara' he said.

'What the hell is he doing here?' she demanded, stepping back into the doorway to block his entrance.

'Hello Sara' Kellerman said, calmly. The smug smile she hated so much was all over his face. 'I was in the neighbourhood, thought I'd drop by and see how you were all doing.'

His eyes dropped momentarily to her belly, and, despite the fact that her pregnancy was barely visible yet, she crossed her arms self-consciously.

'We don't have a neighbourhood' she bit out her words. 'And you never care how anyone is doing.'

He put his hands up in mock surrender.

'I'm just here to help' he said. She snorted in disbelief.

'Yeah, what's in it for you?' she demanded

'Sara, he has news you need to hear.' Lincoln said. 'About your charges.'

She paused, but didn't move to allow him in.

'Are you going to let me in or not?' he asked, levelling his gaze at her and smiling amiably, challenging her to say no.

When she still didn't move, he shrugged and turned to go back down the steps.

'You know Sara, I didn't expect a warm welcome,' he said, his voice even and so damned _reasonable_. 'But I did expect you to want to hear what was happening with the charges against you.'

'I don't want anything from you' she said, through gritted teeth.

'Sara' Lincoln said from inside. 'Just hear him out.'

He turned back to look at her, to see what she would do. She stared at him in open hostility for several minutes, her mind whirling. He smiled at her and spread his hands in resignation. Reluctantly, Sara stepped aside and gestured silently for him to come in.

He strolled into her living room and sat on the couch, placing his briefcase on the table in front of him. Lincoln sat down on the couch opposite and gestured to Sara to sit next to him. She shook her head, there was no way she could be this close to Kellerman.

She chose a spot near the door and watched him carefully, her arms crossed defensively as she listened to him speaking. He told her about the video that had just mysteriously come to light. That it showed Christina holding the gun on Michael, that, whilst not completely exonerating her, would go a long way to convincing a jury of her innocence. That it was possible, just possible, that the charges would be dropped. She couldn't focus on what he was saying. All she could focus on was _him_. She stood awkwardly, leaning against the credenza, with one eye on the door, even though she knew that this time, in this room, he was not here to hurt her. She had no idea how to act around him. How do you have a conversation with someone that tried to kill you? How do you believe that someone that once tortured you and held your life in their hands, and did all of it so casually, was now here to offer help? She stood, feeling an array of emotions that left her unable to speak or even look at him for longer than a minute. Hate burned inside her chest as soon as she looked at his face. He had betrayed her, tortured her, made her fear for her life, made her beg him to stop and now he was here, offering to help, as though that would make things ok between them. As though he was here to rescue her.

'This is very convenient, Paul' she spoke up suddenly. 'Where has this video suddenly come from? She pushed herself up from the credenza she'd been leaning on and began pacing, arms still folded, chewing her thumb.

'It was delivered to me anonymously' he said, calmly, his eyes glancing up at her briefly.

'So you're saying you knew nothing about this before?' she snapped. 'I don't believe that!'

'Sara' Lincoln cautioned.

'Linc, don't you see what this means!' she cried. 'I should never have been arrested in the first place. I should never have needed breaking out of prison! Michael should-'

'Sara!' Lincoln stood up and took hold or her arms firmly. 'We can't change that now. But what Kellerman is saying is that maybe there is a way for you to have your life back. That's what Michael wanted. That's what he died for.'

She wrenched free of Lincoln's strong grasp and turned away from them both. She couldn't look at either of them right now. Especially Kellerman. Why was he here anyway? She didn't trust him. Sneaking around in the middle of the night. Showing up, pretending he was just trying to make amends for everything he had done. Well, she didn't buy it. LJ wouldn't buy it either, if he could see who his Dad was talking to he would lose it.

'We need more time' Kellerman was saying, addressing Lincoln now, but loud enough that she knew he was really talking to her. Had he seriously just said 'We'? Since when did she need him to fight her battles?

'What about my medical licence?' she asked, still not facing them. She hated herself for even asking, hated the fact that she was asking for his help, that she might owe him. She put her hand on her belly, feeling the small bump there.

'One thing at a time' Kellerman said cheerfully. 'Let's get to the point where you can live outside of a prison first, then we'll see what we can do about you practising medicine.'

She could hear the mocking tone in his voice, and the hate bubbled up inside her again. She gripped the counter top, afraid that if she turned around and looked at him, she wouldn't be able to stop herself attacking him.

'The DA's office is reviewing the file in the next few days' he was saying, and she heard him rise of the couch. She tensed knowing he was standing so close to her, the hairs on the back of her neck prickled. 'We'll know more then'

'Ok, thanks man' Lincoln said gruffly. Sara heard the two of them shake hands, and there was a pause as he waited for her to acknowledge him leaving, but she couldn't even bring herself to turn around.

The door closed and Sara knew Lincoln was still in the room.

'How can you trust him Lincoln' she asked, still not turning around. 'After everything? How can we trust him?'

'We can't' Lincoln said, flatly. 'But, the way I see it, we don't have a lot of choice right now.'

'We don't need him Lincoln' she said, finally turning around to face him. 'We are going to be fine here. I have enough money to last a while, you're going to have the dive shop, we don't need to be involved with him.'

'Sara –' he began

'I don't want him coming here Lincoln' she cried. 'Please, listen to me. I don't care about the charges. They can't get to me here.'

'And what about if you ever want to go home?' Lincoln said, raising his voice. You can't even go and visit your father's grave! What if you decide you want to raise the baby in America?'

She flinched at the mention of her father and Lincoln felt guilty immediately.

'Why would I want to do that?' she asked, shaking her head. 'I can't leave Michael here.' She glanced out of the window, towards the beachfront graveyard where they had placed Michael's gravestone a few days ago. No body, though. With no one to claim his body, neither of them knew where Michael had actually been buried.

He stared at her for a long time, meeting her gaze without looking away.

'Michael isn't here' he said finally. 'And if Kellerman thinks he can clear your name, then we are going to try. We're going to do it because if Michael was here, then that's what he would have done. And because it's the right thing to do.'

She stared back at him. His face was set with determination. She knew she was not going to win this fight. And deep down, she knew he was right. It was exactly what Michael would have done. Michael always looked at the bigger picture. He had put his feelings about Kellerman aside before. She wished she could bring herself to be as objective about the whole thing, but she wasn't ready for that yet. Unable to meet Lincoln's gaze any longer, she turned away.

'I'm going back to bed' she said over her shoulder. 'Will you lock up when you leave?'

'Sure' he said softly, but she was already gone.


	14. Chapter 14

_Michael_

The sound of the waves woke him again. Light was creeping in around the frayed blinds and he could hear Reggie moving around in the kitchen. The pain in his head was gone but he lay still, afraid to move for a moment. He raised his hand to his nose and felt around gingerly. No blood that he could feel. He moved his head slowly, a tiny movement on the pillow, bracing himself for the searing pain between his eyes.

Nothing.

He turned his head slowly towards the wall and back again. There was a dull ache, but nothing worse. He pushed himself up off the bed and sat up.

'Good morning' Reggie said from the kitchen. 'How are you feeling?'

'I'm fine' Michael said, frowning as he tried to remember getting back to the hut. The last clear memory was standing in front of the scaffolding around the tower. After that, just fragments of memories of the pain in his head, blood on his hands and being helped back down through the facility, his legs feeling like they weren't his own. A memory of Abbie's frightened face as they had encountered her on the corridor floated in and he tried to grasp it, remember what she'd said to him, but he couldn't.

'You should rest today' Reggie said as the kettle began to whistle next to him. He poured steaming water into two cups and carried them over to Michael's bed. He held the cup out and Michael took it. He sat down on the bed opposite.

Michael took a sip of his tea. Something on the nightstand caught his eye. The syringe and the vials of drugs were sitting there. Reggie had set them out again. Michael glanced up at Reggie and the older man raised his eyebrows. Michael looked away.

'I don't need to rest' Michael muttered, rubbing his face with his hands. He needed to get back into the lab. There had to be some way of contacting home from there, some connection to the mainland, maybe even an internet connection. 'I need to get this job done, so I can go home to my wife.'

Reggie looked at him over his steaming cup and said nothing. He nodded slowly.

'Ok' he agreed, amicably. 'Then we go to work.'

He stood up and walked to the nightstand and picked up the syringe and a vial. He broke the seal on the vial and unscrewed the top. He removed the cap from the syringe and pushed it into the vial, drawing up some of the liquid from inside. He squinted at the syringe and Michael smiled humourlessly. It was obvious the guy needed glasses. Reggie held out the syringe and Michael looked at it for a moment before shaking his head and looking away.

Reggie sighed.

'You are a stubborn man' he said, shaking his head. 'Do you want to go home to your wife in a box?'

Michael looked up at him. Reggie held his gaze, then sighed again as he realised Michael was not going to change his mind.

Shaking his head, he plunged the needle into his own arm and depressed the syringe. Michael stood up suddenly and tried to snatch the syringe away, but it was too late.

'What the hell did you do that for?' Michael asked, angrily.

'Someone has to make you see sense' Reggie said, putting the cap back on the needle and tossing it into the trash. 'Now we can go to work. Mebbe when we come home, you will take the medicine that will keep you alive.'

He picked up his clothes from the end of the bed and headed towards the tiny shower room at the back of the hut, leaving Michael staring after him, speechless.

Gretchen

It was the not knowing that drove you crazy, Gretchen reflected as she sat, motionless, at the dining room table, the plate of food she had just prepared barely touched. If she knew that her daughter was dead, that her sister was gone too, she could leave here, move on. It would be devastating and the pain and guilt would be indescribable, but at least she would _know_. Instead she had this complete void in her life that had begun when she had arrived at her sister's house in LA to find it completely abandoned. No note, no sign of a struggle, no evidence that her sister had packed stuff to take with her and Emily. Dishes still sat on the side in the kitchen, washing hung in the laundry room. They were just…gone. Her sister's cell phone went straight to answerphone every single time she'd dialled it, which was more than she should have, considering she was on the run.

She had spent a week on surveillance - first friends and other family members that they might have been with, then anyone from Rita's address book. After this proved fruitless, she'd spent a few days just driving around aimlessly, hoping to catch a glimpse of them. That's when she'd gotten pulled over for speeding. She had her hand on the gun down the side of the seat and had been just about to kill the rookie cop with the cheap sunglasses when he got an emergency call. He'd handed her back her sister's drivers licence without even noticing the picture and gave her a stern warning about her speed. She'd smiled through gritted teeth, cold steel still in her hand, and tried to look remorseful. As he drove away, she had started shaking. Tears welled up inside her and she sat in the car sobbing hysterically for a good twenty minutes, overcome with grief and fear, for Emily, for her sister and for herself, before she could gather herself enough to drive safely.

Since then, she hadn't been able to go out.

Now, she had no purpose, no direction, no idea on how to find them or what to do next. The last few days she had stayed at the house, mostly in Emily's bedroom, surrounded by her daughter's toys and books. The sound of a car would cause her to rush to the window, but mostly she just sat and waited. She even slept in Emily's bed, the Glock tucked under her pillow.

She knew she shouldn't be here. That, eventually, either the police, feds or the Company would turn up here looking for her. But she couldn't bring herself to leave.

She had been praying that her sister had just taken Emily out of town for a couple of days. That soon they would burst through the door full of laughter and chatter about their trip, and her fear and dread would turn into relief and envy about their shared moments. As the days passed, it became clear that this was not likely. After more than a week, Gretchen had to come to terms with the idea that her daughter and her sister were most likely dead.

She stabbed half-heartedly at a spear of broccoli and pushed it around the plate. She raised it to her mouth, fighting the rising nausea.

'You need your strength' she said out loud, forcing herself to eat it.

The crunch of gravel on the driveway made her look up suddenly. A car door slammed, then a second.

Gretchen got up soundlessly and padded to the window. She peered out cautiously. A black sedan was parked in the driveway. No way of knowing who it was, but it was definitely trouble. She felt for the gun tucked into her waistband, the cold metal calming and reassuring. She moved quietly to the dining room and hid behind the door. They would come in through the patio doors in the back, she was sure of it. She forced herself to breathe calmly, she needed one of them alive. She needed to know what had happened to Emily.


	15. Chapter 15

_Sara _

The sun was rising over the horizon as Sara made her way down to the small harbour. A few fishing boats, tiny wooden things with peeling paint that would seat no more than 2 men comfortably, bobbed up and down gently close to the shore line. The air was crisp and Sara took a few deep breaths as she stood and looked out over the ocean.

She loved this time of day. Even here, even now, it reminded her of her early morning drives to Fox River - Starbucks in the cup holder, radio on as she drove towards the prison. Of how, at some point she couldn't quite put her finger on, she'd started looking forward to going to work just a little bit more than usual, started singing a little more cheerfully and started feeling more optimistic. Because she would see him. Those days had been so full of promise, the future unwritten and exciting. The contrast with the despair she felt now, the complete lack of hope or even interest in the future was like a dagger to the heart.

She stared out over the ocean and ran her hands absently over her tummy. There was a swell there now, no doubt. Still not that noticeable for people that didn't know, but definitely there. She was struggling to connect with the tiny life growing inside her, struggling desperately to connect it with Michael. She knew, of course, that it was his baby growing there. She was just having difficulty imagining this whole other person, bonding with it, loving it. Right now, all she felt was tired, nauseous and alone. In her darkest moments, she couldn't help but think that Michael had died partly because of the baby, so desperate he'd been to save both of them. This dirty, awful secret plagued her, creeping up on her and making her feel guilty. For not being able to do what Michael had done and put the baby before herself.

She sat down on the edge of the harbour, legs dangling over the side and retrieved the papers from her bag. She took a folded sheet from there too and smoothed it out on the pavement, studying it carefully, a frown etched on her face.

Why couldn't she get this right?

She took a fresh piece of paper and laid it flat on the ground. The first instruction called for a mountain fold across the middle of the paper. She did that, taking her time and running her fingers across the crease carefully. She looked back at the instructions. Turn the page over.

She continued with the step by step instructions, taking her time, folding carefully, creasing sharply and double checking each step.

She'd gotten half way through when she realised the corners wouldn't match up properly on the fold she was doing. The whole thing was lop-sided. She exhaled in frustration. How could be? She'd been so careful this time! She stared at the half-made swan, tears of frustration welling up inside her. She couldn't even make an origami swan right, how on earth was she going to be a good mother? How was she going to be able to tell her child how wonderful their father was? How brave and principled and clever he was?

She snatched the paper up off the ground and crumpled it angrily. This was too much. She couldn't do it. She tossed it into the ocean below her and watched, her vision blurred, as it bobbed up and down on the water. After a few moments, it sank beneath the surface and she let out an involuntary sob. She picked the rest of the paper up and tore it into bits, scattering it all into the water below. The origami instructions were last. She ripped them angrily, tearing them into small pieces and launching them over the side. They flew like confetti, floating gently down to the water. A few of them landed in the fishing boats.

She stared for a moment, then turned her back on the harbour and strode away.


	16. Chapter 16

_Michael_

Michael paced up and down in the pre-dawn light on the sandy beach hut that had become home for him and Reggie.

The last few days had taken on a strange sense of routine. Awake around 6am, breakfast, head up to the facility, work on the site, returning only when it was dark to collapse onto the uncomfortable bed, too exhausted to feel the lumps and bumps, listening to the sound of the ocean and thinking of Sara until he fell asleep.

Their first task was to supervise the construction of the tower, and coordinate the position of the mirrors that would be placed around the tower and direct the sun's rays. Although they were surrounded by dozens of people working on site, this was the most isolating experience he had ever had. He and Reggie were allowed to communicate only through Cooper, who would bark their instructions at the men working on the tower. Nobody spoke to them as they made their way through the research facility. He had only seen Abbie once since meeting her, and that had been through the glass of the lab as they passed through the compound on the way up to the top.

Today, though, they were going to be moving on to the second task. They were going to start work in the lab, looking at ways of making the energy conversion process more efficient. Supplies were coming in by drone, Cooper had told them.

Michael had been awake for hours, anxious to get into the lab and explore the possibilities for communication off the island. He was up and ready to go at the usual time, but Reggie was, uncharacteristically, still snoozing.

'Shall I head up there?' he asked. 'Get started?'

'They won't let you up there by yourself' Reggie mumbled. 'Relax, it's Sunday. We start work a little later today.'

Michael turned in frustration and walked out onto the beach.

He walked into the bay and out to the edge of the jetty and sat down on the edge, staring out into the open ocean. The sun was just rising, spilling light onto the water on the horizon. He let his feet hang and the warm water lapped gently around his legs as the waves ambled in. Across the bay, the waves moved more energetically, crashing onto the rocks, throwing foam spray into the air. Even from here, he could taste salt on his lips.

He stared out for a long time, thinking about Sara, wondering what she was doing right now, if the baby was ok, whether she was thinking about him, grieving for him. He put his hands up to his head, overcome with frustration of not being able to get a message to her, let her know that he hadn't abandoned her, that she didn't need to worry about becoming a parent alone. Tears pricked at his eyes and he pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes.

He heard footsteps on the jetty and knew that Reggie was standing behind him.

'Headache?' Reggie asked?

Michael shook his head, wordlessly, the lump in his throat preventing him from speaking.

'Beautiful morning' Reggie remarked, handing him a steaming cup of tea.

Michael nodded and took the cup as Reggie sat down beside him.

They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes, watching the waves and the sun lift out of the distant water.

'This is a huge fishing area' Michael remarked eventually.

'Uh-huh' Reggie nodded in agreement.

'There's got to be boats out there' Michael continued, gesturing out to sea. 'Not very far out either.'

Reggie followed his gaze.

'Yes, you are right.' He said. 'Lots of fishing boats. But this bay is privately owned. And it is patrolled.'

Michael frowned.

'There are security patrols?' he asked, squinting out to sea.

Reggie nodded.

'Of course' he said, simply 'The technology being developed here has to be protected.'

'I don't see anything' Michael said, still staring at the open ocean.

'That doesn't mean they are not there though, does it?' Reggie said, matter of factly. He turned away.

Michael frowned but said nothing.

'You ready to go to work?' Reggie asked.

Michael nodded absently, still staring out to sea. Reggie got up and set off back across the sand. When Michael didn't follow immediately, he turned back and waited. Michael finished the remainder of his tea, cast one last glance at the ocean and got up from the jetty. He followed Reggie back towards the hut, his mind working. Reggie watched him as he strode past, his face thoughtful.

'Let's go' Michael said.

Gretchen

These two were amateurs, Gretchen though sourly as she listened to the two thugs searching the house for her. Had they really sent these two looking for her? It was insulting.

She felt the familiar adrenaline rush, and she adjusted her grip on the Glock. She realised her hand was clammy with sweat and she wiped it quickly on her jeans and took a firm hold of the gun once more, its weight soothing her jangled nerves. Her heart was hammering so loud in her chest, she was afraid it would give her away. What was the matter with her? Two fools like these were no reason to lose her cool, she had dealt with far worse.

She closed her eyes for a few moments and focused on her breathing as she heard them head into the kitchen.

It was Emily. That was the reason she was nervous. Gretchen had been in gun-fights with all manner of henchmen, she was confident enough in her own abilities to have never been phased by it. Cool and calm, that had always been her style. But that was when she had only ever had herself to worry about. This was her one shot at finding Emily in time for there to be a chance of her being alive. It was a slim chance, she knew that, but there was a chance all the same.

Would Lisa really have ordered Emily killed? After all, she was her sister. Gretchen had gone over and over this in her head over the last few days and still couldn't decide. Who would want a sibling born to the woman you hated and the father you hated even more? On the other hand, Lisa was still afraid of her father, and he could get out of jail anytime. Who knew what miracle his lawyers could pull.

She heard footsteps heading toward her and she took a final breath and held it. She needed to judge this right. Listening carefully, she decided that only one of the men was headed her way. Not perfect, but she would have to improvise. She shifted the Glock to her left hand and took hold of the door knob. The door was heavy.

She moved the two steps she had worked out earlier today. Not enough to come out from behind the door, but enough to cause her reflection to appear in the huge mirrors on the wall opposite.

The reaction was swift and immediate. Bullets sprayed the wall across and the mirror exploded, throwing shards of glass across the room. Gretchen held her nerve and tightened her grip on the doorknob. She thrust it forward with all her might, hoping the idiot behind it had stepped forward to take his shots.

He had. The heavy wooden door made contact with a satisfying thud. Moving swiftly, Gretchen pulled the door back and aimed the gun at the guy holding his nose. There was blood pouring from his face and his gun lay on the floor. Some hitman.

'Well done, asshole' she said, sourly. 'You killed a mirror'

He muttered a strangled cry, a plea for his life, but she pulled the trigger instinctively, knowing his partner was still in the house. He collapsed in front of her, falling forwards and landing at her feet, his eyes staring sightlessly up at the ceiling.

She bent and took his gun from him, casting glances around her. Where was the other one?

The answer came swiftly. Too late she heard the soft _pop_ of a gun and there was a burning sensation in her right shoulder. She stifled a cry as the gun dropped from her hand.

She ducked back behind the door and reached for her own Glock from the floor.

She glanced down at her shoulder. Blood was flowering rapidly across her shirt. She peered over her shoulder to the back. There was blood there too, her shirt was sticking to her. That was good. The bullet had gone through. She tried to flex her right hand, but her fingers felt numb and heavy. She was going to have to use her left hand. She tightened her grip on the Glock; it felt strange in her left hand, but she had shot with it before.

Suddenly, gunfire exploded in the hallway again and she crouched into a ball, defensively. There was a sudden thud and the shots stopped.

'Gretchen!' a voice called from the hallway. It sounded vaguely familiar and Gretchen frowned.

'Gretchen, come out' the voice called again.

Gretchen's mind worked furiously. What the hell was going on? Were there three of them? She was bleeding and didn't have a lot of time before she was too weak to fight and win. She needed to take this guy down quickly. On the other hand, she couldn't afford for him to be dead. She needed information.

'Who are you?' she called.

'It's Adam, Gretchen,' the voice came again. It was closer, the bastard was moving towards her. Blood trickled down her arm and dripped off her fingers onto the carpet. She stared at it, thinking her sister was going to be pissed at her. Then she remembered her sister was probably dead. 'I'm not here to kill you, I'm here to help.'

'I don't know anyone called Adam' she said, hoping her voice sounded stronger than she felt. She felt woozy and her hand was shaking.

'Gretchen, that hurts' he was in the hallway now, she could tell. She could hear his careful footsteps. 'We've had some good times together.'

She leaned her head back against the wall and closed her eyes for a second to try and fight the nausea that was threatening to overwhelm her. Who was this guy?

'Come out' he said again.

'If you know me at all, you know I won't come out' she said. 'I'm going to have to kill you, you know that.'

He laughed softly but his footsteps had stopped.

'I see you took care of Charlie' he said. 'The other one is dead too.'

Gretchen placed the voice. She did know him. Adam Black. Hired gunman. They had worked together a few times. Slept together too. Not that that meant anything right now.

'Charlie was an idiot' she said, her hand gripping the Glock tightly.

'Yes, he was' Adam said, agreeably. 'Now, are we going to shoot each other, or are you going to come out and we can talk about Emily?'


	17. Chapter 17

_Michael _

Michael followed Reggie as they crossed the small patch of sand. They headed straight over to the facility and Reggie punched in the code. Michael felt a surge of optimism as they made their way up the stairs. There had to be a way to get a message out from this lab. There had to be a way off this island. He was going to find it. No matter what he had to do. Abbie's face flashed into his mind. No matter what.

They reached the top of the stairs and were buzzed through. Reggie glanced over at Michael and frowned suspiciously.

'Why you so eager this mornin'?" he asked.

Michael shrugged and said nothing. They made their way down the corridor to the lab they'd first met Abbie in. It was in darkness.

'She isn't here yet' Reggie said. 'I'll go and get the keys. Wait here.'

He disappeared back down the corridor and Michael waited impatiently, peering into the lab, trying to decide where to start. He was glad Abbie wasn't here; it would make it easier to look around.

Reggie reappeared with a bunch of keys and Michael had to stifle the urge to take them from him as he fumbled around, working his way through the bunch until he found the right one. The door swung open and they both stepped inside. Reggie reached for the lights and they blinked on, throwing a harsh blue-white glare round the room. Michael's eye's came to rest on the PC in the corner. That's where he would start.

'I need to take the keys back' Reggie said. He gestured around the lab. 'Look around. I'll be back in a minute.'

Michael nodded absently and Reggie left. He knew he wouldn't have enough time to actually send a message right now, but he could do some research.

He strode over the PC. It was switched off. No time to power it up. He turned the tower around slightly and looked at the back. The socket where the internet cable would go was empty. Maybe a wireless connection? He glanced around, looking for a router. He ducked down to look under the desk. There was a single plug in the mains. It ran to a four way multi socket adapter, into which the PC tower, monitor and a printer were plugged. He leaned under the desk slightly, looking for a socket for a phone line or another plug for a router.

Nothing. He exhaled a puff of air in silent frustration.

'What are you doing?'

The female voice made him jump and he straightened up with a start, banging his head on the underside of the computer desk. He turned and backed out slowly, praying Cooper or one of his men wasn't in the room too. He straightened up and looked around.

Abbie stood in the doorway, arms folded, her eyebrows knitted together and a disappointed look on her face. He looked at her, trying to gauge her reaction. The flustered, freckled girl that had been a little awed by him a few days ago had been replaced by an indignant woman who looked as though she'd just discovered Santa wasn't real.

Just then, Reggie appeared behind her too. He sensed the hostility in the room and paused, glancing at both of them.

'Is everything ok?' he asked, directing his question at Michael.

'What were you looking for?' she asked, still frowning.

'I- I was looking for an internet connection' Michael admitted. He spread his hands in a 'you got me' gesture, deciding that honesty was probably the best policy right now. He wasn't sure how or why, but he knew that he was going to need this girl at some point. He needed her on his side.

She stared at him, as if trying to gauge whether he was telling the truth.

'Oh. Well, we don't have internet here' she said, simply.

'No internet?' he asked. 'None at all?'

She shook her head.

'That makes no sense' he said, slowly, his eyes narrowing. 'How do you work, do your research?'

'I have what I need' Abbie's tone was defensive. 'Sometimes the internet is a distraction to new research, it stops you thinking clearly about what you have found yourself.'

It sounded like a line she'd been fed and was regurgitating in order to convince herself it was true. Michael changed tack.

'How do you stay in touch with everyone – your friends, your family?'

She flinched, as though he had touched a nerve.

'If I need to speak to anyone, I can use the satellite phone' she said, her voice suddenly small. She stared off into space for a moment, then seemed to gather herself and remember that she should be the one asking the questions. 'What do you want the internet for anyway?'

From over her shoulder, Michael could see Reggie frown and shake his head slightly.

'I, uh-' Michael began.

'Michael has been itchin' to find out more about lithography' Reggie interrupted, smoothly. 'Been quizzin' me about your work, Abbie.'

Abbie looked at Reggie and then back to Michael, a skeptical look on her face. Michael paused, then raised his eyebrows and smiled in admission. She blushed. The flustered girl was back.

'Well, why didn't you say?' she said, pretending to be cross but obviously pleased. 'I'll lend you my college books and you can read my paper…' her voice trailed off as she lost a little confidence at the thought of Michael reading her undergraduate research.

'That would be great' Michael reassured her.

'Um, I'll just go grab it' Abbie gestured behind her out of the door as though this would mean anything to Michael. He nodded encouragingly, and she disappeared out of the doorway, her ponytail bobbing excitedly.

Reggie frowned at Michael, his eyes fixing him with a glare. Michael stared back and the two of them were locked in a wordless argument for several moments. Abbie reappeared, breathless and pink cheeked.

'Here' she said, handing Michael a pile of books and a ring bound research paper.

Michael broke his stare from Reggie and took the books.

'Thank you' he said. 'I'll take them back with me and read them later. It will be good to have some intellectual stimulation.' He glared pointedly at Reggie who waved his hand dismissively.

A light went on over Reggie's head and an intercom sounded, the sound of static and a little feedback before the voice kicked in. Michael looked up with a start. Reggie and Abbie were unfazed.

'Supplies have arrived' a tinny, nasal voice announced efficiently. Abbie headed for the door eagerly.

'Let's go' Reggie said, shooting Michael one last glare as he followed Abbie out of the lab. Michael sighed. He set the books on the counter top and rubbed his forehead with the tops of his fingers. He cast an impatient glance around the lab. Reggie was waiting for him in the doorway. Reluctantly, he pushed himself off the counter he'd been leaning on and followed the two of them out into the hall.


	18. Chapter 18

Gretchen

Gretchen was no quitter. She didn't give up in a fight. She used whatever tricks and deceit she needed to in order to make it out alive. It had worked out ok so far. But this one wasn't looking so great. She considered her options as she yanked downwards on the vest she was wearing under her shirt, snapping the flimsy shoulder straps. She had two guns, her own Glock and the semi-automatic pistol she'd stolen from the dead guy on the floor in front of her. She'd been shot and was bleeding pretty badly. Her shoulder was white hot with pain that extended down her arm, ebbing into an excruciating ache somewhere around her elbow. The fingers on her right hand were cold and numb and she knew it was useless to try and operate a gun with that hand. Still, she was a pretty good shot with her left. She pulled the vest downwards over her hips and swiftly past her legs, grimacing in pain as she stepped out of it.

The guy in the hallway was a hired gun. He was a cold, calculating killer. She had worked with him in Mexico a few years ago on a hit. The General had sent them there together, not suspecting, or possibly not caring, that they might end up having sex in their seedy hotel room after the job was done. They had stayed a couple of days longer than they needed to – taking a detour back through Cancun where they had spent days lounging on the beach, and evenings getting drunk and having sex. He had hardly spoken to her during any of those activities. One morning, she'd woken up and he had left. No note, no goodbye. She hadn't been upset; she'd been about to do the same thing herself.

She knew this would have no impact on whether or not he killed her right now. He had no loyalties beyond those to the person paying him.

'Gretchen, I'm not here to kill you' the voice came from the hallway. He had an impatient tone. Gretchen recalled he was an impatient man – he did everything as quickly as possible, as though he just wanted it to be over. Gretchen smiled grimly to herself as she balled the vest up and pressed it to the gunshot wound in her shoulder. Yes, he did _everything_ quickly.

'What _are_ you here for Adam?' she called, buttoning her shirt and picking the gun back up.

'I'm here to help' he said. 'The General sent me.'

Gretchen frowned, her mind working over the details. He had killed one of the thugs sent to kill her. She could have sworn only two people got out of the car in the driveway, so he could have come separately. On the other hand, he could have been with them and this was just a trick to get her to surrender.

'The General sent you to help me?' she called.

'Yes' he said. His voice was closer, and she tensed and readjusted her left hand grip on the gun. 'He said you'd come here. He sent me to help you keep your daughter safe.'

'The General would never do that' Gretchen said, flatly. She was going to have to fight after all.

'You're wrong' the voice called, closer still. He was _right there_, near the doorway. If she stepped out now, she'd have a split second to kill him. 'Prison's changed him.'

Gretchen snorted in disbelief, but there was a tiny bit of her that desperately wanted to believe him. That desperately wanted to believe that Emily only had one parent that cared about her.

'Gretchen, I don't want to have to shoot you' Adam said, impatience creeping back into his voice. 'Come out.'

'Why now, Adam?' she asked. 'I've been here for days. Why have you only just showed up?'

He exhaled a short indignant puff of air.

'I haven't only just showed up' he said, wearily. 'I've been outside since Monday, but I couldn't very well just come and knock on the front door, could I? And breaking in wasn't an option, or I could have ended up like one of these two idiots.'

She leaned her head back on the wall. The pain in her shoulder was making her feel nauseous and she knew she had very little choice but to trust Adam. Besides, he'd just killed the person she'd been counting on giving her information about Emily's whereabouts. She sighed, wondering whether this would be the last decision she ever made. She clicked the safety on the Glock and threw it out into the hallway.

'And the other one' Adam called, and she thought she detected the hint of a smile in his tone.

Reluctantly, she tossed the pistol out too, then sagged at the knees, weak and dizzy, and slid down the wall. A shadow fell on her immediately and she looked up. Adam towered over her, wearing black clothes and a pissed off expression. He was taller than she remembered. Or maybe that's because she was sat down? She squinted, trying to focus on him, but the glare of sunlight behind him made it difficult.

His expression hardened when he saw the blood on her shirt, as though he had wasted his time negotiating with her when, in fact, she was in no shape to be a threat to him. He sighed, tucked his gun in the waistband of his pants and crouched down to look at the wound on her shoulder.

'Aagh!' she exclaimed, as he pulled her forwards to look for the exit wound. He let go of her and she slumped back against the wall. She felt like crying with the pain and she was struggling to form coherent thoughts. It took a huge effort to raise her face to look at him and she frowned as he seemed to swim in front of her.

'You'll be fine' he said. 'Come on, we need to get out of here.' He took her good arm and put it across his shoulders. Gretchen turned to face him.

'Do you know where Emily is?' she asked, tearfully. 'Is she alive?'

Adam looked at her for a moment, then shook his head.

'I don't know,' he said, softly. He held onto her arm and stood up, pulling her weight onto him to support her. 'Can you stand?'

She didn't respond and he looked over at her. She had passed out. He rolled his eyes and briefly considered shooting her and leaving her here. He could tell the General he had found her dead when he got here. He knew the General was experiencing cash flow problems. He wasn't going to get paid any more.

He shook his head to get rid of the thought. Gretchen was…. Well, she wasn't exactly a friend, but she had been a colleague and a welcome diversion at a difficult time of his life.

Plus, he couldn't get the maths out of his head. Mexico had been ten years ago. He knew that because it had been 10 years almost to the day that he'd come home early to surprise his wife on her birthday. He had been about to tell her he was quitting the Company, quitting the constant travelling and late night meetings. That he was sorry for all the time he'd not been around lately and he was ready to start a family now.

She had been in bed with his brother. The memory of standing in the kitchen, clutching a bunch of white roses and listening to the sound of them upstairs was still engraved in his mind. He had been able to see his brother's white BMW in the driveway.

The General had been the first person he'd called. No, he didn't want revenge. He just wanted a distraction, a job, something to take him away from the US, especially California for a while.

When he had gone to see the General in prison, the old man had told him the job was to protect Emily. Sure, if Gretchen could be saved too, fine, but Emily was the one he wanted to protect. The General had passed him a photo of the girl and Adam had been surprised at how young she was. That the General had a daughter that young.

'How old is she?' He had asked the General.

She's nine' the General had said. 'She turned nine a couple of months ago.'


	19. Chapter 19

Kellerman

'Paul'

The voice came from his left as soon as he stepped into the hallway. He turned and saw a female figure, sitting at his dining room table, silhouetted by the bright light streaming in from the windows behind her. He squinted.

'It is Paul, isn't it?'

'Who are you?' Kellerman asked, calmly. He closed his front door.

The woman leaned forward and he recognised her instantly.

'Ms Tabak' Kellerman said, smiling icily. 'What can I do for you?'

He didn't ask how the hell she had managed to get into his house. He knew that she had taken over the Company in the General's absence.

'Paul, I know that Lincoln Burrows has been in touch with you' she said, coolly, crossing one leg over the other and moving the stack of coasters idly.

He raised his eyebrows slightly, but said nothing. Nothing surprised him anymore.

'He wants his brother's body back' she stated.

Kellerman drew up a chair and took his time sitting down opposite her, hitching his pants above the knee and unbuttoning his suit jacket. He leaned forward and waited for her to continue.

'That can be arranged' she said.

'I'm done helping Lincoln Burrows' Kellerman said, flatly.

'I think you've misunderstood me' Lisa said, looking him in the eye. 'I want you to arrange it.'

Kellerman met her gaze and let a few moments pass before replying.

'I am done helping Lincoln Burrows' he repeated, pronouncing each word slowly.

'No you are not Paul' Lisa said. 'I have the body. You will make arrangements for it to be transported to Panama.' She paused and lifted a manila envelope from the chair next to her. 'You will also show them this tape, which will help exonerate Sara Scofield of the charges against her in this country.'

Kellerman frowned, puzzled.

'Why would you want to help them?' he asked. 'They are no threat to you now.'

'Let's just say I want to put an end to all of this – help them move on with their lives now that Michael is dead.' Lisa withdrew a business card from her purse and placed it on the table in front of her. She used two fingers to slide it across the table to him.

'You want to help them?' Kellerman's voice was full of scepticism. 'Why? What's in it for you?'

She ignored him and tapped the business card with her forefinger.

'Call this number, he will help you arrange everything.' She said. She withdrew her hand and picked up her purse.

'I don't work for you Lisa' he said, smiling pleasantly.

'You do now' she said, standing up. She crossed the room, her heels click-clacking on the wooden flooring. She paused when she reached the doorway and turned slightly.

'You know Paul, I think you could go far' she said. 'With the right support, people in the right places, who knows, one day you could be Governor…maybe even a Senator. It's people like you that this country needs. People that get things done, that aren't afraid to get their hands dirty now and again.'

He didn't turn to look at her.

'I look forward to working with you' she said, confidently, before turning and leaving through the back door.

He sighed and picked up the business card. He knew better than to think that he had any choice but to comply.

Lincoln

Lincoln sat in his car, unable to muster the enthusiasm to get out. He was parked outside the Dive Shop that he had found a few weeks ago, right before Michael and Sara's wedding. Was that really only – he counted back – six weeks ago? It seemed like another lifetime now. This place, or any one just like it, was what he and Michael had been dreaming about and planning for months now; their ticket to a happy, free life. It had seemed impossibly out of reach at times, but it had always been there, in the back of their minds, keeping them going, since their days in Fox River. This had always been the plan.

Now he was here, he felt no sense of achievement, no joy at having made it. He just felt hollow, empty. The plan had never been for him to be here on his own.

He stared at the lop-sided sign. It was exactly like the picture he'd seen on the internet. A string of seashells had been hung over the shop sign, one side slightly longer than the other, as though the person that had hung it couldn't be bothered to find the centre. The windows were framed with dust and peeling paint and contained handwritten signs in grammatically poor English, giving rates for kayaks, surf rentals, dive equipment and expeditions and urging would-be customers to 'Come inside and ask to us!'

As he sat there, two young men came out of the shop, carrying surfboards. They were dressed identically – board shorts, flip flops, tans and unkempt hair. One of them had a cigarette dangling from his mouth. They were talking and laughing about something Lincoln couldn't hear, gesticulating with enthusiasm. He watched as they carried the boards across the sand covered road and headed towards the beach, envying their carefree afternoon, spent catching waves.

Could he really do this now? Spend his days making small talk with people he didn't know or care about? A few weeks ago would have said that was exactly how he wanted to spend his days. Now, he was struggling to see how he would manage to make conversation about surfing and waves. It all seemed too trivial. He would be working, talking, eating and breathing and Michael would be rotting in the ground.

Since arriving, his mission had been to try and track down Michael's body. He had no idea how he would get it to Panama once he did find it, but he figured Kellerman could help with that. He'd driven into town daily, to the one and only internet café for miles, and scanned the pages of the local and national papers for news of the breakout and Michael's death. Sara's escape had been covered in two paragraphs, light on details, on page 3 of the Miami Herald that day after they'd left. The article stated that both Sara and Gretchen Morgan had escaped, leaving three guards dead and another civilian dead. He'd frowned. Sara had told him that Gretchen had got caught. Evidently, the guards that caught her had paid for that. There was a picture of both women above the article. The following day, they were reduced to a single paragraph in the Herald and a mention in the USA today, in the State roundup. '_Fugitives thought to have fled country_'

Two days later, in the Herald:

'_Former fugitive implicated in recent breakout, found dead.' _

_Michael Scofield, one of the infamous Fox River Fugitives that escaped from the high security prison Illinois last year, sparking a nationwide manhunt, was named as one of the deceased in the recent breakout from the Miami Women's Penitentiary. His wife, Sara Scofield, a disgraced doctor and daughter of the late Governor Frank Tancredi of Illinois, is one of the women that have been named as having escaped from the prison late Thursday. _

_No details have been released about how Scofield died, but it is believed he was fatally injured while breaking his wife out of the prison. Sara Scofield had been charged with the death of Scofield's mother and was awaiting trial. A second inmate, Gretchen Morgan, also escaped, and killed two guards. Both women are still at large, and are considered extremely dangerous. Anyone with information is asked to call 1-800-555-1212. _

Lincoln thought about the frail, gaunt woman he'd left at the house that morning. Extremely dangerous my ass, he thought.

Sucre had been into the ME's office but they wouldn't release the body to him, he wasn't family. He had even risked a call to Mahone but Alex had been unable to help him; he was in enough trouble with the FBI back in Miami. He'd had to resort to Kellerman. He hadn't told Sara that it was he, Lincoln, that had initiated contact with Kellerman. That, in desperation, he'd called the man that Sara despised, but that had helped them once before. He'd been surprised when Kellerman had actually agreed to help him claim Michael's body and even more so when he'd suggested that he could also help Sara.

One more favour to add to the list.

He watched as a young couple in beachwear crossed the road in front of him and headed for the shop. They were lean and tanned, with sun-streaked hair. They stopped to look in the window, reading the signs and pointing as Lincoln wondered idly how he was going to break the news to Sara that Michael's body was being prepped for transport here and would arrive in the next few days. That they needed to plan a funeral service.

The couple had decided to go in; clearly their biggest decision today was going to be 'one person kayak or two'. Lincoln could no longer imagine a life so ordinary.

Still, he needed something. They had money for now, but the rent on Sara's beach house for 12 months had made a dent in that, and there was a baby on the way. Michael's baby. The only reason he was free and sitting here right now was because of Michael. Michael, who was on his way here in a box. He owed it to him to make a life here, to help Sara raise their child. They were going to need a steady income.

He sighed heavily and pulled the handle on the car door. With a heavy heart he followed the young couple into the shop. It was time to buy a business.


	20. Chapter 20

_Michael_

'Stand back Dr' the guard frowned at Reggie and Michael's snapped his head up.

_Dr?_

He looked quizzically over at Reggie, but the older man avoided his gaze.

Reggie took two steps back and the guard buzzed the inner door open. He was bent over a box that contained several smaller containers.

'The chemicals and the wiring stuff you asked for is being brought down' the guard said. 'Dr Truman – this one is yours.'

Abbie stepped forward eagerly and took the shiny metal container, clutching it to her chest.

'This one is for you, Dr' the guard said

Reggie frowned and looked across at Michael.

'Come on' he said. 'Let's take it back to the palace, eh?'

'No, let's just take it back to the lab and carry on working.' Michael said, anxiously.

'Let's see what we got first, eh?' he raised his eyebrows in a knowing glance and Michael realised the futility of arguing.

'Ok, well let me go and grab the books Abbie gave me.'

Abbie struggled to keep a pleased smile off her face.

Reggie hesitated, and looked at Michael through narrowed eyes.

'I'll be right down.' Michael said, insistently.

Reggie reluctantly headed down the corridor and Michael followed Abbie back to the lab. She set her box down on the table in the middle of the room, then turned away. She shuffled some papers on her desk and picked up a pen and tucked it into her lab coat.

'You going to open that?' he asked, nodding towards the table.

'Uh-huh' she said. 'I –uh, I like to do it in private.'

'Oh, I'm sorry' Michael said. 'I'll just take these and go.' He picked up the books and the research paper.

'No, no - it's fine!' she said, hurriedly. 'I just – it will probably have some stuff from my family. I sometimes get a little – you know – emotional when I see it. So, I prefer to open it alone.'

Michael nodded, lost for words as thoughts raced through his mind. Stuff from her family? Did she send them stuff back? How much did she know about how he was being held here? He stared at her for a few moments, and she shifted uncomfortably.

'Well, I'll, uh, leave you to it' he said, finally.

'Sure, ok' she smiled.

'I'm sure we'll be back up in a little while'

She nodded, but her attention had shifted to the box on the table now, and he turned to leave. A thought occurred to him and he stopped in the doorway and turned back.

'Abbie?'

She looked up from the table.

'I was wondering if you could get your hands on some glass for me' he said.

A fleeting look of disappointment crossed her face.

'What for?' she asked, carefully.

'Just a little project' he said, looking away. 'Wanted to experiment with some lens grinding.'

'Michael, you know I can't do that' she said, apologetically.

He nodded. So she knew something about him being kept here.

'I'm sorry-' She began, but he raised his hand to stop her.

'It's ok' he smiled, reassuringly. She looked genuinely sorry she couldn't help him. 'I shouldn't have asked.'

He turned and left the lab, headed down the corridor and out of the facility, his mind turning over all the new information from this afternoon.

Reggie looked up as he entered the hut. He was pouring two mugs of tea. The canister was on the counter. He handed Michael a mug and gestured to him to sit down as he unscrewed the canister carefully, reaching inside to bring out the contents gingerly, one by one, as though they were unwrapping a Christmas parcel that was to be savoured.

A box of Reggie's favourite herbal tea. He smiled thinly and set it aside.

Some more vials of medicine and syringes and needles. Reggie held the box up to Michael with raised eyebrows. Michael looked away.

Reggie withdrew a sheet of paper with his handwriting on it.

'What is that?' Michael asked.

'This is the list I sent them last month' Reggie replied. He studied it carefully. 'Anything you need, you make a list. Looks like we got everything this month'

'Last month?' Michael echoed. 'You wait a month for what you need?'

'Mm-hmm' Reggie replied, setting the list aside and turning back to the canister. 'Sometimes, it come sooner.' He shrugged. 'Sometimes, it doesn't.'

'I don't have another month' Michael said, rubbing his head in frustration. 'Don't you understand? I have a wife I need to get back to. She is pregnant and she thinks I'm dead right now!'

Reggie said nothing. He drew out an envelope from the canister and handed it to Michael.

'This one has your name on it' he said.

Michael snatched the envelope and tore it open. A photograph drifted out and onto the floor, and Michael knew what it was immediately. He bent to pick it up. It was a short range shot, taken from only a few paces away, maybe across the street with a good lens. Because it was close-up, the majority of the house couldn't be seen, but the front porch could be clearly made out. Sara sat on a swing on the porch, looking small and lost, staring out past the camera, clearly oblivious to the fact that someone was taking pictures of her.

The message was clear – the Company were close…and Sara knew nothing about it.

The pain and fear were visceral and, for a moment, he couldn't look at the picture. He looked away and clutched his head in pure frustration and anger. He screwed his eyes closed and focused on his breathing.

The moment passed and he turned back to the photo, eager to see her face. His eyes moved slowly over the glossy print, taking in as many details as he could. He stared into Sara's eyes, hunting for signs that she was hurt, afraid, tired…. Her face remained frustratingly impassive.

'Is that your lady?' Reggie peered over his shoulder and Michael instinctively moved the picture closer to his chest to shield it from Reggie's view.

'Yes' he said.

'As long as you're here, she is safe.' Reggie laid a hand on Michael's arm.

'Is that what they told you?' Michael frowned bitterly. 'Is that why you're still here, living in a hut and not even trying to get back to your family?'

'Yes, Michael, that is what they told me' Reggie said, quietly.

'Haven't you ever tried to escape?'

'Yes, I have' Reggie's eyes dropped. 'I was like you. Thought nobody could protect my family like me. I had to get back to them. I was wrong'

'What do you mean you were wrong?'

'I mean, I was wrong. I tried to leave, but I failed. I should have listened sooner. I have a job to do' He shrugged. 'Maybe I'd be done by now. Maybe you wouldn't be here.'

'Well, I'm not prepared to sit here and wait to be freed, Reggie.' Michael turned and looked at the cliff face. 'I've already spent enough of my life in prison.'

'Michael, if you try to leave here, your family will be the ones that suffer. Believe me, I know'

Michael looked back at the older man.

'What do you mean, you know?'

Reggie met Michael's gaze.

'You know what I mean, Michael.' He said softly.

The words sunk in, and a sudden realisation hit Michael. The photos, they were so old. The woman in them, so much younger than Reggie.

'Reggie' he asked, his words slow and deliberate. 'Exactly how long have you been here?'

Reggie looked at him for a long time and Michael thought he wasn't going to answer.

'Sixteen years, five months and two days I've been on this island' Reggie said slowly.

Michael sat at the table, staring out to sea, the photo of Sara on the porch of the house in Panama on the table in front of him. He'd been sat like that for over an hour now.

'You want lunch?' Reggie stood with the refrigerator door open, staring at the contents. He removed some sandwich meat and salad and dumped it onto the counter next to the loaf of bread.

Michael looked up at him, momentarily confused at the simplicity of the question.

'Lunch' Reggie repeated. 'Are you hungry?'

'No' said Michael, flatly.

Reggie shrugged and set about making a sandwich.

'Are you sure?' Michael said, unable to look at the older man.

Reggie stopped, the knife hovering over the lettuce on the chopping board.

'Yes, I'm sure.' He said quietly. 'I've seen the pictures. Those ones I didn't keep.'

'How can you stay here, knowing that, knowing what they've done?'

'Because the children are alive' He said. 'and I want them to live. I serve them better here. The Company pays for their college tuition. And maybe when we get this project finished, I will see them again.' He smiled sadly. 'Everybody wins' he finished softly.

Michael said nothing. He looked down at the photo. At Sara's oblivion to the cameraman. They were close. He shivered.

'It was my doing' he said. 'I knew what would happen if I failed. Her blood is on my hands as much as theirs. I'm done making other people suffer because of my actions'

Michael looked back out of the window at the ocean. Other people had already suffered because of his actions. The actions he'd taken over the past year and a half to save his brother had cost many people dearly. Maybe the actions needed to save Sara were different.

'We can take the afternoon off… if you like?' Reggie suggested hesitantly.

'No' Michael said, picking up the picture and tucking it back inside his pocket. 'We need to get started.'

Reggie nodded approvingly.

'Then let's get to work'


End file.
